Accidents Happen
by WritePassion
Summary: Gunfire erupts in the middle of a residential area. Michael and Sam deal with the aftermath and find themselves under attack while trying to come to terms with the outcome.
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Noticee: I don't own it, I just play with it._**  
**

_Season 6 spoilers._

**Accidents Happen**

By WritePassion

Michael Westen was a spy. A burned spy who'd recently regained his status as an agent with the CIA, although the relationship was still quite tenuous. He was keenly aware of his fragile situation, so when his former trainer Tom Card demanded his cooperation on a job, he had no choice but to give it all his attention. It didn't matter that he was missing Fiona and dealing with the loss of his brother. As in show business, the job went on despite everything else.

Being under Card's command is what got him into this situation. He raced down the street in his classic black Charger with Sam riding shotgun, literally. As they chased the SUV through the streets of Miami and onto the island where a construction project had been halted due to the economy, they passed a residential area. He vaguely registered that there were kids playing on the lawn in front of one house. Sam leaned out the window to shoot at the vehicle ahead, but he saw the kids too and pulled back inside.

Neither of them said anything. They just looked at each other, shook their heads, the thought that this was getting too close for comfort silently communicated between them. The SUV almost disappeared into a cloud of dust as the vehicle ran onto the construction site. Michael slowed a little. He spoke into his ear piece. "Pearce, we need that roadblock in here right now."

"We're coming! Just give us five minutes."

"I don't know if they'll be around that long."

Sam prepared the rifle. "Mike, just run parallel to them, and I think I can get clear."

Michael turned the wheel, put on the gas, and cut off the SUV so that it took a different direction. He followed and, with his powerful engine, he was able to get alongside them. Sam shot at the driver's side window and shattered it, but he missed the driver. Someone rolled down the back window and shot at Sam. The SUV made a sharp right, Michael followed, and Sam took another shot as they pulled up alongside. The guy in the back seat screamed as the bullet hit its mark.

"We're running out of real estate here," Michael warned as they neared the road that put them on the island to begin with. The bridge was narrow, just barely wide enough for two vehicles, and the SUV inched closer, trying to run them off into the water.

Michael wouldn't give in, and neither would Sam. He took another shot at the driver just as they got to the bridge. The SUV swerved and nearly scraped the side of the Charger. Sam ducked inside at the same time, narrowly missing being squashed between the two vehicles. They raced across the bridge. Sam pulled out his Beretta and aimed up at the driver.

"Pull over," Sam yelled at him.

The driver responded by shooting at Sam, but he missed. Sam ducked inside, just in time; he could feel the breeze as the bullet whizzed past his chest and shattered the window to Michael's left. The two men looked forward and saw they were seconds from going back into the residential area. There were parked cars along the street, and the SUV would be in the parking lane.

"Mikey."

"I know." Instinctively, Michael jammed on the brakes and let the SUV go ahead. It slipped between a parked car and the Charger's front end. Sam used the opportunity to take another shot. The bullet hit the driver in the arm, and he lost control of the SUV.

At the same time, Michael rammed the side of the SUV and pushed it into a parked car stopping everyone abruptly. Both men breathed heavily in the stifling confines of the Charger. In the distance, they could hear sirens. They weren't worried about those, since Peace would be there by the time the cops arrived and she would be able to smooth things over. They were more worried about their suspects getting away. The two got out of the car and approached the SUV with guns drawn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw those kids again. They stood on the front lawn across the street and watched the action, mesmerized.

Michael saw them and yelled, "Hey! Go on! Get in your house, right now!"

Sam tore his attention away and hoped they'd listen. He had to cover Michael. There was no time to be worrying about bystanders. Still, he came around the back of the Charger to the same side as his friend, because there was no way anyone was getting out of the vehicle on his side of the car, and maybe his presence there would help shield the kids.

"Get out of the vehicle, now!" Michael ordered the three dazed men. "Drop your weapons, put your hands up where I can see them, and get out."

It was a difficult request, since the Charger was still crunched up against the SUV. The driver opened the door as far as he could to get out. His body was turned away slightly, but as his foot hit the pavement, he shot at Michael and Sam. How he missed was anybody's guess, and how he managed to leap over the Charger's hood and run, that was an even bigger mystery.

"Cover these guys!" Michael spun on his heel and ran after him, leaving Sam alone to take care of the two passengers.

"Okay, buddy. Come on out of there, and don't try to run. I've got a hair trigger here." The sirens got louder. No doubt they were within seconds of arriving and he would have backup, but he wouldn't relax. Not until the cuffs were on these two bozos.

"Throw your guns down on the pavement before you come out. Now!"

The guy in the back seat did as he was told. He held one hand up and grimaced in pain. With the other he opened his door, but it would only go so far. "I'm trapped!"

"Fine. Stay there, but toss out your weapons."

Metal rattled as an assault rifle hit the asphalt, followed by a handgun. Sam kept his attention on them both as the injured one lost his weapons. He saw the passenger up front reach behind himself. It was like slow motion watching the gun come up over the window frame and aim at him. Sam turned his gun to aim as a shot rang out. It missed him, but his return volley hit the shooter in the arm. He cried out, dropped his weapon and retreated into the SUV.

Another shot rang out and hit Sam in the upper chest. It felt like a freight train coming at full speed. He staggered a step from the impact and the unexpectedness of the shot. Another in quick succession sent his shocked body falling to the pavement. His head whipped back and made solid contact with the curb.

Police cars screeched to a halt. Agent Danielle Pearce led them there, and she got out of her vehicle and ran to Sam's side as the police surrounded the SUV. "Sam. Sam, talk to me!" She lightly slapped the side of his face, but he was out cold. Her eyes wandered down to his chest where two bullet holes marred the front of his shirt. No blood. She placed her hand on the collar, pulling the cloth aside to see a bullet proof vest. "You're one lucky guy. They didn't pierce the armor." She smiled with relief, then slapped his cheek a little harder. "Sam, come on, wake up. Where's Michael?"

Sam was out several minutes before he groaned and his eyes slowly opened. He waited for his vision to adjust before speaking. "Pearce. Is... is Mike okay?"

"I don't know. Where is he?"

"He ran off... after the driver. What... what the hell happened... to me?"

"You were shot, but you had a vest on," Pearce replied as he fought her in order to sit up. "You better just stay down for a minute or two. You were unconscious when I found you."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Sam mumbled. He reached up behind his head and felt around until he winced. "Ow. Guess I musta fell back and hit my head."

"Yeah." She gave him a look. "I don't want you getting up until you're cleared. Got it?"

"You're not my boss. I don't have to listen to you." He tried to rise again.

"Technically, on this operation I am." She pressed her hand into his chest, causing him to wince, and he struggled to get out from under the pressure. "No, don't do that. Sam!"

He was too stubborn to pay attention to her. Pushing her away, Sam rolled to his side and slowly got up. "Gotta find Mike." The world spun around him when he sat. He shook his head and observed the action on all sides. Police were everywhere, taking the perps into custody. The ones Sam shot were on their way to a prison hospital. The guy who ran off was still missing, and so was Michael. His vision blurred again, and he scrunched his eyes closed for a moment, then opened them. Across the boulevard, he saw another ambulance.

"Pearce. What happened over there?"

"I don't know. I was more concerned with you and Michael." Her gaze wandered to some movement to the east as she helped Sam get his footing. If he wouldn't stay down, the least she could do was help keep him on his feet. "It's Michael."

Sam turned to follow her gaze and watch his friend, now soaking wet, pulling the SUV driver toward the cops. He laughed. "Oh man, he must have taken a dive into the bay to get that guy!"

"It amazes me sometimes what he'll do," Pearce said with admiration in her tone.

"I got him." Michael pushed the man toward a police officer who took him into custody. "He almost drowned me, but I got him." He stood with hands on hips, looking around at the scene, and his eyes locked onto the ambulance across the street. Then he turned to Sam. "Are you okay?" He saw the bullet holes and stuck a finger into one.

"I knew it was a good idea to wear a vest today, even though it's close to 100. It didn't stop me from almost busting my melon open hitting the pavement, though." He swayed a little, and both Michael and Pearce reached out to hold onto him.

"We better get you over to the ambulance, Sam. Get you checked out at the hospital." Michael grasped his arm a little tighter, because he knew his friend well. Sam would protest and make light of his injury even if he was bleeding, which he wasn't, thankfully.

When Sam didn't resist, Michael looked at him. Then his gaze followed Sam's across the boulevard. He suddenly realized that the ambulance wasn't there for his friend. The paramedics crouched on the ground in front of a house. Police officers stood flanking three adults, two men and a woman. The woman wept loudly, and the men's grips were the only thing keeping her on her feet. Sam moved forward, and the three crossed the median.

"Jeez, Mike," Sam muttered as he halted in the street. "That kid... the one we told to go inside..."

"It was an accident, Sam."

"That kid got shot because of us, Mike!" His breath came in short bursts. "We should have stopped them on the island. There was nobody out there. Nobody would have gotten hurt but us!"

"Michael, let's get him out of here." Pearce turned Sam away from the scene.

Sam turned back. "I shoulda shot first, Mike."

"It's not your fault." Michael tried to stay calm. If he hadn't run off after the other guy, he might have been in the other shooter's trajectory. He might have been hit instead. He might have been lying in the boulevard at that moment, bleeding, dying. "Pearce, we better get him to the hospital and have that head looked at."

"I'll drive him."  
"Hey, you! Westen!"

Michael looked around, unsure who called his name. He stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "It's her. Paxson."

"We haven't seen her for awhile." He glanced at the woman. "Uh oh, she looks like she's out for blood."

"Dani, get Sam out of here. I'll take care of this."

"Michael..."

"Don't worry. I know just how to handle this woman." He smiled thinly. "She and I have had dealings before."

"Sorry I can't help you, brother." Sam felt a wave of dizziness overtake him and his knees buckled. Pearce could barely keep him upright.

"Woah there, Sam! Come on, get into my car before you fall over." She led him to the vehicle and opened the door. She shielded his head as he got in, then closed the door. From where she stood, a tree obscured her view of Michael and Detective Paxson. "I hope you know what you're doing, Michael." With a shake of her head, she walked around the front of her car, started it, and carefully turned her vehicle around.

"Ma'am, you can't leave yet," an officer said, trying to stop her.

She held out her credentials. "I am leaving. I need to get my operative some medical attention and then we'll do a debrief." She smiled at him and spoke in a condescending tone. "Don't worry, your superiors will get a copy of my report, with all high security items redacted, of course."

The cop handed her back her identification. "Alright, Agent Pearce. Be careful weaving through there. It's kind of tight."

She nodded and moved forward at a crawl. When the car was finally free of the pack blocking the street, she turned her head and looked at Sam. His head lay back against the headrest and his eyes were closed. Sleep probably wasn't a good thing for him right now, but he and Michael had been awake for over 48 hours before this happened. It was one of the hazards of the job. Although Sam wasn't one of her operatives, unlike what she told the cop, he was an asset, a very good asset, and he deserved the same treatment that any of her agents would receive if they were in a similar situation. Dani drove her car to the correct side of the boulevard and put on the gas to get him to the nearest hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Michael Westen. Why is it no surprise to me that you'd be involved in the middle of a shootout?"

"Det. Paxson, nice to see you again too." Michael grimaced.

He was familiar with her looks of disdain, but this time it was more severe than ever. "Oh please, don't try to be cute. What were you thinking?"

In times like this, Michael turned off his emotions and simply answered succinctly. "We were trying to get these guys to stay on the island. Our backup came too late."

"You should have let them go when you found yourself in a close residential area," she spat back at him.

"If we let them go," Michael said as he stared her down from less than a foot away. "The next stop would have been the port of Miami where a new shipment of drugs was expected to come in this afternoon. If Martinez showed, the seller would have completed the transaction and brought back another load next month. Our aim was to make sure that didn't happen."  
"A temporary stop-gap measure. You should have let the DEA know and they could have just busted them at the port. Buyer and seller." She stood with her hands on her hips, challenging him with her stare.

"Yeah, that would be a nice, neat happy ending, but our agency needs that guy in Columbia for awhile. When we're done with him, he's all yours, or the DEA's. Whoever wants him."

"I hope Mr. Axe doesn't think he's getting away with not talking to me," Paxson said as she looked down the street where Pearce had driven away with him.

"No way. Once he's checked out, I'm sure he'll be happy to come talk to you, and he'll tell you the same thing I did."

Paxson glared at him, her eyes afire with anger. "We haven't even scratched the surface, Westen." She turned to the scene and looked at his car. "Is that heap drivable?"

"As far as I know, yeah."

"Good. Get in and follow me back to the station. We'll sit down, grab a cup of coffee and chat." The smile on her face was less than friendly. It reminded Michael more of a lioness about to pounce on dinner. She strode away with hands in her pockets, her posture erect, tense, and all business.

Sam was lucky. Michael would rather go get his head examined than sit in an interview room with Paxson trying to explain an accident. That's all it was. Tragic, yes, but not many accidents were good, not in his book. As he straightened out the Charger and pulled up onto the median to get around the SUV, his eyes locked onto the scene on the front lawn across the street. The paramedics were preparing to take the kid away. The mother sat on the porch, collapsed and inconsolable in a man's arms. Civilians in the line of fire was never good. Unfortunately, even in this country, it happened sometimes. Michael had never seen it on his home soil until now. Despite all the terrible things he'd witnessed in his lifetime, an innocent injured or killed ranked up there as one of the worst. He pressed the emotions down and left the scene. He had to worry about dealing with Paxson first. Then he could unpack his feelings later and examine them.

He followed the detective to the station, followed her inside, and sat in the chair in the interview room. He jingled his keys in his pocket while she walked around to the other side and kept her eye on him. Paxson sat, leaned forward, and rested her arms on the table.

"I, uh, thought we were having coffee," Michael said and looked around. "Don't see any in here."

Her eyes narrowed. She stood, walked to the door, and as she spoke with the officer outside, she kept one eye on Michael. She didn't like his smart attitude. By the time she was finished with him, he and Sam Axe would pay for their irresponsible acts, as far back as she could scrape them up and pin them to their despicable bodies. If she could get Fiona Glenanne into the mix, it would make her year. Bet he won't be so smug when he's behind bars.

A few minutes later she returned with two styrofoam cups. She set one in front of him and said, "I hope you take yours black, because that's all you're getting."

"You know, the Miami PD really needs to work on their people skills. I mean, think about just giving a guy a cup of coffee the way he likes it. So simple, really, but it might go a long way in making someone cooperative."

"Fine." She leaned over him. "If I get you what you want, will you talk?"

"Oh, this is just fine," Michael replied, held up the cup, and brought it to his lips. He took a sip and grimaced. "A little strong, but it'll do." He set the cup down and folded his hands on the surface. "So, why don't we get down to business, and then I can be on my way? I wanna check on Sam, make sure he's okay."

"When I'm done with you," Paxson responded and plunked herself into her chair. She took a sip of her coffee, made a face, and pushed it aside. "Tell me what you and Mr. Axe were doing exactly."

"We were trying to capture a buyer. The guy you have in custody."  
"I thought you said you wanted him free so he could go back to Columbia."

"No, no, no, that's the seller!" Michael shook his head. "We wanted the buyer, and then Sam was going to..." He cut himself off and sat back in his chair. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about this. It's a classified mission."

"Your activities are hardly classified when they cause accidents and little kids wind up getting shot."

"As far as the CIA is concerned, our mission was classified." Michael shot back just as coldly as he crossed his arms. "So if you want that kind of information, you should really talk to my superiors and see what they can tell you."

"You really know how to irritate me, Westen."

He gave her a grin, but there was no amusement in it. "We have such great chemistry. What can I say?"

"You may think this is funny, but I don't. A child's life is hanging in the balance because of your carelessness."

Michael knew he was really getting on her bad side, but he didn't care. "We took every precaution we could under the circumstances." Michael leaned forward and his blue eyes turned to ice as he stared her down. "We saw those kids on our way to the island, and Sam even pulled back from shooting at the lead car because he didn't want to risk hitting them. We tried to keep those guys on the island, but they used some evasive maneuvering and our backup wasn't there yet. So we did what we could with limited resources." He paused and his voice softened when he spoke again. "The last thing we wanted to do was get a kid shot. I don't know what you want from me. All I can say is 'sorry'."

Paxson nodded, but he knew this wasn't over yet.

"It's not like we were out there to create mayhem on purpose! Do you really think that we were?"

"Sometimes I think you get into the heat of battle and you lose perspective. You make mistakes because you're not thinking about all the angles and factors involved." She paused, studied him with narrowed eyes, and asked, "How much sleep have you and Mr. Axe had in the past 24 hours?"

"That's irrelevant." Michael evaded.

"Maybe, maybe not. If you were impaired by lack of sleep, you never should have been driving."

"If that were true, I wouldn't have pulled back to keep that SUV from plowing straight into a line of parked cars."

"Someone was just getting out of one of those cars when you caused the collision."

"Are they okay?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"She's fine."

"So," Michael nodded once. "It would have been worse if the SUV had crashed into that whole line. Am I right?"

"Possibly. We'll never know because it didn't happen that way."

"And we'll never know what would have happened if that kid hadn't been hanging out on the lawn after I yelled at him and the others to go inside. If he'd listened to me, he might have been safe." He teetered on the back two legs of the chair and drained his cup. "See, that's one thing you didn't know. I warned them, but they didn't listen." He came down on four legs with a loud thump. "And Sam even used himself as a shield, hoping those guys would aim for us and not go wild on the kids. Did you see the bullet holes in his shirt?"

"No, I had more pressing concerns than Axe's hideous fashion sense."

"Really. I thought that was one of his better shirts. Anyway, he had two right there, in the upper left chest." He pointed to the area on himself. "It could have been fatal if he hadn't been wearing a vest, which is unusual for Sam, but today he did."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better somehow?"

Michael raised his hands and let them drop. "I don't know. Just take it as a little bit of evidence along with Sam's actions that we were trying to do everything we could to protect the residents. It was just an accident. Accidents happen."

"When word of this gets out to the press, that we have government agents running around shooting up neighborhoods..."

Michael crossed his legs and threw an arm over the chair back. "Oh, this is about your precious reputation, not any real crime fighting. I get it now."

Seeing that she wasn't going to get anything out of him, Paxson muttered a curse under her breath. "Fine, you can go now. I'll be talking to your superiors, and when Axe is able to, I'll be getting his side of this whole thing. I could throw a whole boatload of charges on you, Westen, don't forget that."

"Yeah, well, I've got other things to worry about right now." He stood, pulled the keys from his pocket and turned toward the door. "Have a nice day, Detective."

"You too, Westen. Enjoy your freedom while you can." He was already gone and didn't hear her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When Dani parked in the lot near the emergency room, she jostled Sam to wake him. He mumbled, shook her hand off his arm, and turned his head toward the window. It took some work to rouse him, which alarmed her.

"Sam, we're here."

"Hmm, where?" He opened his eyes and saw the sign. Then he turned back to her. "Why are we here?"

"You need to get your head looked at, remember?" She stared him down, silently daring him to defy her.

"Oh yeah, that. It's not so bad, really. I mean, if I could fall asleep even though it hurts, I should be fine, right?"

Dani knew that he knew better than that. "No, if anything, you should be more concerned." She got out of the car, came around to his side, and opened Sam's door.

He grinned, his eyes half closed. "I've never had a woman open a door for me before."

"Come on, get up." When he didn't respond, she sighed heavily, unlatched his seat belt, and pulled on his arm until he stood.

"You're interrupting some valuable nap time here, I'll have you know." He let her lead him toward the entrance. "You know what's gonna happen. The doctors will waste all this time running tests that are going to cost the taxpayers a lot of money, and they'll find nothing wrong with me. Then you'll have to try to explain that to the director. Have fun, sister."

"Just shut up and we'll see how wrong you are."

The emergency room was busy, and because Sam wasn't bleeding, he was given a spot on the list and told to wait. He looked over at Dani with a smug expression, and she stared back. "What?"

"Just wait, this'll all be for nothing. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I've gotten hit on the head. This time I didn't even get a cut!"

"You were unconscious for several minutes. I know, I was there."

Sam leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands as he stared down at the floor. He didn't say anything. Dani wasn't sure what to say to him. They'd never been much on conversation that didn't involve a case, and then it was usually more like an argument.

"I should have done something."

"What," she asked, not sure she heard him correctly. "What could you have done? Those kids were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were facing down three men with automatic weapons, and it could have wound up much worse." She paused, looked around the room, and added, "You and Michael are lucky you didn't wind up dead."

"I'm sure the kid's mother will feel great about that." He glanced up at the doors for a moment before returning his gaze to the floor. "Mike has gotta be devastated right now."

"I don't know. When we left, that detective was getting ready to give him the third degree."

"Paxson. She's a barracuda with a badge. Mike can handle himself with her on a good day, but this... is not a good day." He let out a shuddering breath.

"Are you okay? Sam?"

"Yeah. Just feeling a little queasy, that's all."

"You've got a concussion."

"Thank you Dr. Pearce." He pressed his forehead into the heels of his hands. "Wish I could get something for this headache."

Dani watched as Sam coped with the pain and discomfort. Despite his ability to irritate her, she felt sorry for him. "You could always look on the bright side. If you hadn't had that vest on, you would have wound up on the other side of that door a lot sooner and you'd certainly be feeling a whole lot crappier."

"Yeah, and I'd probably be unconscious too, which would be a lot more pleasant than this." He slowly sat up straight and grabbed the arm rests. "Speaking of vest, I need to take this thing off. It's restricting."

"There's a restroom down the hall that way." She pointed straight ahead of where they sat. Dani waited impatiently for him to return, mentally calculating how long it would take Sam to remove the vest, and when it seemed far too long, she got up to check on him. She didn't get very far. He came out of the room, looked up and down the hall as if he'd forgotten the direction from where he came, and turned left to head back to the waiting area. He looked pale, and when she took the vest from him, he trembled a little.

"What happened in there?"

"Nothing. Just, uh... nothing. I'm fine." He sat in the chair and swiped a hand across his upper lip, removing a light film of perspiration.

He needs to see a doctor, and soon! "I'll be right back." Dani kept her eye on him until she was outside. She threw Sam's vest into the back seat of her car and looked up when she heard the distinctive sound of the Charger as it turned in to a parking space not far from hers. Michael got out, and she smiled at him.

"Didn't think you'd get out of Paxson's clutches that fast."

"Yeah, well, she was looking for information that I couldn't give her. All classified, you know." He looked around. "Where's Sam?"

"He's inside waiting to be looked at. They've got a logjam in there, so it might be a little while longer." She looked up at Michael with concern. "He doesn't seem to think it's worth the fuss, but..."

"He hit that curb pretty hard. Don't let him talk you out of it."

A steely gaze came to her eyes as she said, "No one can talk me out of anything." Except you, Michael Westen, when you have a mind to do it. She inclined her head toward the emergency entrance. "Let's go see how Sam is doing. When I left him, he looked like he was about to vomit."

The automatic doors opened, and in the vestibule they could hear the shouting. Michael quickened his pace and went through the second set of doors to find Sam standing in the waiting room, pinned up against a wall with several people getting into his face and screaming at him. One guy clenched Sam's shirt in his fists as he yelled mere inches from his face. Sam looked paler than he'd ever seen him, and sweat broke out on his forehead. Michael listened to the people, but he couldn't make out anything over the mash of voices.

"Hey, knock it off!" Michael pushed between two of the people and made it to Sam's side, and he fought off the one who had a death grip on his friend.

"That's him! He was there too! Call the cops! They're responsible for killin' Tyler!"

Michael froze and his jaw hung slack. He turned to Sam and asked over the din, "Is it true? Is the kid dead?"

"I don't know, Mike. I was just sitting there, and these people came in, saw me and started yelling. I thought they were going to beat the crap out of me until you showed up." He held up an arm to ward off a flying fist.

A shrill whistle permeated the chaos, and everyone settled down and looked for the source. Dani stood nearby with her fist on her hip. "I don't know what you people hope to gain by badgering my colleagues, but I can tell you this. Anyone who throws a punch at them or tries to harm them in any way will be arrested for assaulting a government employee. Do I make myself clear?" Her eyes swept the small mob and the audience that looked on in anticipation. "Go back to your seats!"

A security guard stepped up to Dani and whispered something to her. She shook her head. The guard glared at the people, and they silently disbanded and retreated to the corner.

"You okay, Sam?"

He nodded at Michael. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Michael sensed Sam's uneasiness. The people who tried to attack him congregated on the opposite side of the room. In the middle sat a woman who kept her head bowed as she cried into a handkerchief. She raised her head, and he recognized her from the scene. "Is that the kid's mother?"

"I think so," Sam whispered. "She came out a few minutes ago with a priest, sobbing. I don't think the kid is dead. It sounded like he was being taken to surgery and the priest was praying for him to pull through."

"So the relatives overreacted."

"Can you blame them? Think how you'd feel if Charlie got caught in some crossfire and you saw the guy who was shooting. What would you do?"

He didn't have to think about it. Michael knew exactly what he would do, and it would have been over in the time it took the kid's relatives to confront Sam. "You should probably sit down. You're not looking so great."

"I should just go home. Elsa can have a doctor come over, clear me, and then I'll rest. That's all I need, Mikey. We've been awake for over two days. That's bound to have an effect on me." He locked his legs to keep from falling. "I just need to get horizontal for awhile, and I'll be fine."

"Helena, where are you going?"

Sam and Michael gave their attention to the voice as the woman spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "It's because of you two that our baby is in there right now." She pushed herself to her feet, ripped her hand out of the pastor's, and crossed the room. She asked, "What have you got to say for yourself, huh? Did it make you feel good to let an innocent child get shot while you and your friend played war with those men?"

"Those men were dangerous," Sam replied. The blood pounded in his head, but he ignored it.

Michael added, "They were responsible for thousands of tons of drugs coming into this country, as well as organizing insurrections all over Central and South America." He knew she really didn't care about that, but he and Sam were on the defensive and he had nothing better to say.

"So you decided to chase them into our neighborhood for a shootout," the woman asked, her voice rising to a shriek.

"It wasn't our choice. We wanted to contain them on the island..."

"Michael," Dani warned him with a hand on his arm. "You're treading in dicy waters here."

"Yeah, you're right." He turned back to the grieving mother. "Look, ma'am, it was a terrible accident that your son was shot. We didn't set out for it to happen. I yelled at the kids to go inside."

"You're going to blame this on the children?" Horror crossed her face, and suddenly her hand came up and she slapped him. "They were innocent! Don't ever place the blame on them!"

Dani stepped between the woman and Michael and with her body pushed her back. "Lady, I warned your family. That's assault on..."

"Maybe you better get out of here," the man who accompanied the distraught woman interrupted, and they could see that it took all his energy to control his voice.

Dani was adamant. "We're not leaving. This man has a head injury that needs to be looked at."

"Get him out of here, please," the man pleaded, his face a map of sorrow. "His presence is upsetting my wife."

"See? It's better for us to leave," Sam said with a nod. If it were at all possible, he looked even paler than before.

Michael saw Pearce shaking her head. "You should really get checked out, Sam."

"Not now." Sam shook his head and spoke softly. "A head injury will be the least of my problems if that mom gets a hold of us."

"No, you should just sit down. You have every right to be here." He grasped Sam's arm and gently peeled him away from the wall.

"I'm tellin' ya, this is a bad idea." Without warning or fanfare, Sam's eyes rolled, and suddenly he became a pile of dead weight in Michael's arms.

"Sam. Sam!" He held onto him and let him slide gently to the floor. "Can we get some help here?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The door squealed announcing his arrival as Michael entered the loft. He called out, "Fi?" Then he remembered that she was at his mom's house, still comforting her over Nate's death. Not that he begrudged his mother's grief, but if Fiona had been with them, maybe things wouldn't have gone the way they did. I could have counted on her to block that bridge even if it meant blowing it up. If Jesse hadn't been at the port to run tactical support, we would have had enough manpower to take care of things.

He could wish and second guess himself all day, but that still didn't change the facts of the situation. When he left the hospital, Sam was still unconscious and having a scan taken of his head. He felt a little vindication when the people who only minutes earlier intended to attack Sam watched with shock as the orderlies lifted his friend onto a gurney and rushed him through the doors. Apparently, losing consciousness in the waiting room warranted a hefty bump up the list. At the very least, Sam was safe from retribution for awhile.

The targets of their operation were stable in the prison hospital. Not that he cared about them. The child, Tyler Stanfield, was in critical condition, and at this point, the doctors weren't sure if he would survive the night. Michael threw his keys onto the workbench, shuffled to the refrigerator, and pulled out a beer. He twisted off the top, lifted it up, and mumbled, "To you, Sam." He downed half of it in one gulp. Then he moved to the balcony, opened the double doors, and sat on the stairs that led to the rooftop. Somewhere between the time of the accident and now, the sun set. It was still hot and sticky, and the music from the club downstairs rode the warm breeze up to the loft. Beads of sweat clung to his arms, but the wind did nothing to dry them. He felt like a wet blanket had been tucked around his shoulders.

Michael finished the beer as he replayed the scene in his head. Over and over again, he analyzed every move, every word that was said. Where did it go wrong? What could they have done to produce a different outcome? In the end, he knew it just came down to uncontrollable factors. There were always variables that no one could predict. He'd done a pretty good job of it so far in his career, and Sam too. We tried. We really tried to protect those kids. For all the good it did.

Michael threw the bottle and it hit a piling along the river, crashing into pieces that scattered onto the ground and into the water. He didn't care. All that mattered was he used bad judgment somewhere, and an innocent life might be lost because of his error.

_ "Sometimes I think you get into the heat of battle and you lose perspective. You make mistakes because you're not thinking about all the angles and factors involved."_

That's not true! I was thinking. I could have let that guy ram into those cars. Someone else would have been hurt, or killed, and it might not have changed anything. It might have made things worse. He rubbed his eyes. I can only do so much!

"_How much sleep have you and Mr. Axe had in the past 24 hours?"_

If only you knew, Paxson. In the past, I've spent 72 hours straight without a wink. That has nothing to do with this. He got up, went to the fridge for another beer when he should have been going to sleep. He set it on the bar and looked at the empty bed that called to him across the room. When Fiona was taken away, he slept on the couch upstairs or not at all because he couldn't stand being alone in that bed. Could his behavior be taking its toll? No, it was just the job. Now it was over and done, and Pearce put him on administrative leave so he could get some rest. _Get your head on straight._ So she said.

He put the beer back into the fridge. Sam would want that when he got out of the hospital. They said they would keep him overnight for observation, but Michael knew the signs of a concussion. Sam would be out of commission for a few days and then need to take at least two weeks of rest at home. A little smile played on his lips. Elsa would be sure to take good care of him. The smile turned into a frown. I have no one to take care of me. With Fiona gone... he shook his head. Maybe I am impaired. He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up his phone and dialed.

He blinked and suddenly felt like he did when he was eight years old. He tried running away from home, but when he changed his mind, he discovered that he was lost. Thank God his mother had given him a dime for emergencies. So like that day, he felt just as helpless as he waited for her to pick up. He'd always been so strong and never let the outcome of a bad mission touch him like this. Coming so soon after the loss of his brother, with the lack of sleep, he was close to losing it. He hated losing control.

Maddie's cheery voice said, "Hello, please leave a voicemail." She'd learned from him to keep the message vague for her protection.

"Hi Ma, it's me. I...I need you. Can you please come to the loft?"

After Nate's funeral and the anger she displayed toward him, Michael didn't really expect that she would come to his aid. But he hoped that maybe hearing her other son in pain and need might trigger some motherly love and send her running to help. Maybe Fiona would hear the message and come home.

"It's Fi, leave a message."

"Fi, it's me, Michael. Please, come home. I need you right now. I..." He cut himself off before he completely lost control of his emotions. This wasn't like him! He always maintained composure!

When Fiona was let out of prison, it was a bittersweet time. They'd just lost Nate, and he gained her. His reunion with her was so short; he barely had time to kiss her before she was off to Madeline's side. Maybe she blamed him too for Nate's death. His mother certainly did. After the funeral, he hadn't seen either of them for over a week, and every time he called his mother, he left a message that she never returned. When Fiona spoke to him, it was a tense conversation, so despite how much it hurt, he decided to give them both some space. This case was a needed distraction. But now, everything imploded and he felt like he was falling without a safety net below.

His phone rang, and Michael answered on the first ring. "Hello, Ma?"

"It's not your mom, Michael." Fiona's voice came out soft over the line. "We saw the news tonight. We know what happened."

He swallowed back a lump in his throat. "What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything, but I could see it on her face. She was even more angry."

"I've really screwed things up." Michael dropped his head in one hand and barely held onto the phone.

"Michael, I also saw her heart breaking for you. Despite how she feels right now, she still loves you. It's just going to take some time."

Sorrow clogged Michael's voice as he asked, "What about me, Fi? What about how I feel? It's not like I set out to get Nate killed! I really thought he could do the job."

"I know that. Your mom knows it, too. She just needs to sort things out and get over the irrational thoughts that are going through her head."

Sniffling, Michael croaked, "Fi, can you come home? I need you. I need you so badly." He hated to beg. Unless it was for a case, he was never good at asking for help, humbling himself to make his request.

"Madeline's asleep. I'll be right over."

"Thank you, Fi."

Fiona arrived and found the loft door unlocked. With things being the way they were for the past year or so, she was surprised. "Michael?" She entered the loft and called his name again. "Michael? Where are you?"

"Here, Fi."

She startled as he came out of the bathroom. His hair was wet and he wore a pair of pajama bottoms. He slipped into a t-shirt and approached her. His face wrenched up, and she knew he was fighting his emotions again.

"Michael." Her heart felt as if it had been pierced when she saw him. She closed and locked the door, came forward, took him into her arms, and kissed him tenderly. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay, Fi." He pulled away, led her to the bar and sat beside her on the stool. Then he told her everything. "I don't feel like I can ever justify what we did when it comes to that child's life."

"Are the police pursuing charges against you?"

He swiped at his eyes that betrayed his stoicism. "Not yet, but Paxson made it pretty clear that she intended to."

"Can't the CIA do something about it? I mean, really! How many times have we done something illegal and nothing ever happened?"

"Nobody ever got hurt except for the bad guys, but this time it's different." He sniffled. "And Paxson's right. When the press gets their hands on this story, sweet innocent little kid versus big bad government dudes with criminals and even bigger and badder guns, it's not going to go well for Sam and me." Michael buried his face in his hands. "I wish I could rewind today and start over."

"Everybody wishes that when something goes wrong." Fiona placed a hand on his back and rubbed it gently. "I know you, Michael. You didn't do this on purpose. It just happened." She let out a deep breath. "Let's take this one step at a time, one day at a time. For now, go to bed and get some rest."

"I can't. I'm too keyed up."

"Let me work on that. You just go sit down there on the bed, okay?"

Michael wordlessly shuffled to the bed and sat on it. He felt so incredibly tired, but he knew when his head hit the pillow he would still be wide awake. "I wonder how Sam's doing."

"I called the hospital but they wouldn't tell me anything. We can go over there tomorrow morning and see him." She worked at the stove and soon came to him bearing a steaming cup.

"What's this?"

She grinned. "Just a little warm milk. It'll help you sleep, really!" She handed him the cup and stood combing his hair with her fingers as he sipped at it. "Drink that up. All of it."

As the last swallow went down his throat, he realized that he felt relaxed. So relaxed that Fiona was able to push him to lay on the bed as she took the cup from him. Through bleary eyes, he said, "Fi, you did something to that milk, didn't you."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it, Michael. You need your rest." She leaned over and gave him a kiss, rolled him to his stomach, and whispered. "Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

To his delight, she took off her shoes and stripped down to her underwear and bra, and then she straddled him. While in prison, her firm hands had time to lose the callouses earned from weapons handling, but he would know their touch anywhere. He moaned and relaxed, flattened himself into the mattress, and reveled in the movement of her hands. She started at his shoulders and worked her way down. By the time she reached his shoulder blades, he was asleep.

Fiona wasn't used to seeing him so helpless, and it disturbed her. As she worked on his muscles, the love she felt for him came rolling back in like high tide, flooding the scrapes and bumps on the beach of their history over the past few months, smoothing out everything and making it new again. If only Madeline could experience the same thing for herself! This whole thing was tragic, but perhaps it would be just the thing to bring them back together. Michael was in agony for more than just this incident. Accidents happen. Yes, he and Sam may have made mistakes that led up to the most recent one, but if everyone pointed fingers at the origin of a tragedy, they would have to go back so far, it would be ridiculous. People liked to go only as far as it suited their case. If necessary, she'd somehow make sure that didn't happen to the love of her life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Paxson stopped at the open door and peered inside. The room was dimly lit, but a figure clearly lay in the bed. The name on the door said Axe. If this is some kind of game he's playing to get out of owning up to what he and Westen did... She let out a deep sigh and took a step into the room. A woman sat beside the bed, and at the sound of heels on the flooring, she looked away from Sam and locked her eyes on the newcomer.

Despite how she felt about the situation, Paxson gave her a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Detective Paxson with the Miami PD. Who are you?"

"I'm Elsa, Sam's girlfriend." She wasn't sure what to make of the woman who kept her eyes locked on Sam with a look of desire in them, but Elsa was pretty sure it wasn't because the detective thought he was hot.

Paxson took a few more steps into the room as she studied Sam. He didn't look any worse for the wear. Other than being hooked up to monitors and IV's, he appeared to be just fine. In a soft tone, she asked, "Is he sleeping?"

Elsa replied in an equally soft tone. "He woke up a few times for brief periods since he was admitted. Otherwise, he's been unconscious. He hasn't awakened yet today." She blinked as she turned her attention back to him. "Sam didn't show up for dinner last night, and I was worried, so I called Michael. He told me what happened, and I came right over. When I got here, he'd just been admitted."

"Do you know how serious this is?" Paxson asked as she waved her hand at Sam's still form.

"The last time he was awake, Sam said it was nothing to get excited about, but he couldn't remember how he got the head injury. The doctor said that with the placement of the blow and the force, he's lucky he wasn't killed."

"I thought for sure his best friend Michael would be here right now."

Elsa could hear the disdain in Paxson's voice. Her response dripped with defensiveness. "I don't know where he is. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see if Mr. Axe was in a frame of mind to talk to me about what happened yesterday."

"Well, as you can see, he's not." She turned the chair to face away from the detective and concentrated on holding her beloved's hand. "Why don't you leave a card and I'll call you when he's ready to talk."

Paxson's mouth tipped up. "I'll be back tomorrow to see how he's doing. Good day, Elsa."

She stopped Paxson in her tracks by asking, "Did you see what happened because he tried to prevent those kids from getting shot?"

Her brows wrinkled as she stared at Elsa. "What do you mean?"

"Here, come and look at this." She rose from her seat and pulled down part of Sam's gown. A large, deep purple bruise spread out toward his left shoulder and down his chest. "That's where the bullet proof vest stopped the rounds. The police said if he hadn't been standing where he was, another one of those kids would have been hit. And they wouldn't have been so lucky. Without the vest he would have died, no matter what happened to the kids."

"It's a moot point. He and Michael, and their suspects, shouldn't have been there shooting to begin with." She pushed her hands into her pockets and said, "I know you're trying to excuse what they did, but if they hadn't been there, there'd be no need for justification."

Elsa straightened and gave her a cold stare, and the detective backed off. Then her features softened as she asked, "Have you heard how the little boy is doing?"

"Not good, Elsa. Not good at all." Paxson turned grim. She stood with hands on hips studying Sam's peaceful expression as he slept. It only angered her more. "Tell him I'll be back later, if he decides to wake up while I'm not here."

After Paxson left the room, Elsa placed a hand on Sam's forehead and spoke softly. "Sammy, you need to wake up and clear your name before that witch has you hanging for something beyond your control!" He didn't respond. She didn't really expect him to regain consciousness, but she could hope. With a sigh, she returned to her seat and kept watch.

The afternoon light filtered through the slats in the blinds and painted lines across Sam's bed. One beam hit him at eye level. He slowly opened his eyelids and turned away from the brunt of the glare, and he was surprised to find someone standing beside the bed. The figure moved to the window and turned the slats, blocking the rays, but it also left the room dim.

"Elsa?"

"She's not here right now, Mr. Axe. She needed to take a break, so I offered to stick around just in case you woke up."

Sam didn't need to see the face to know that it was Det. Paxson. He massaged his forehead with his fingers, doubting that Elsa would voluntarily leave the detective alone with him. "Paxson. What do you want? Get tired of ripping Mike apart?"

"You remember that I interviewed him right after the accident. That's good."

Sam didn't like the way she emphasized the word, as if they intended to hurt anyone besides the guys they tried to stop. "Are you implying something, Detective? I know you've got a beef with us, but come on, this was just a series of unfortunate events."

"So everyone keeps saying. The parents are pressuring the police department for charges against you two."

"What charges?"

"Reckless endangerment, attempted homicide..."  
"What?" Sam's eyes flew open. "You know you can never pin a charge like that on us."

"But you don't deny the reckless endangerment." She smiled slightly.

"I didn't say that." His eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the look in hers, and he realized that he didn't have to say anything. She'd already made up her mind, and from here on out, the whole investigation would paint him and Michael as a couple of careless commandos who took pleasure in mowing down bad guys in residential neighborhoods. He released a ragged breath, closed his eyes again, and pressed into the pillow. "I'm too tired for this. And seeing one of you is bad enough. Can't stand two. Maybe you better go."

"I need to wrap this up so we can move forward."

Sam opened his eyes slightly, discovered that there was only one of her again, and opened them completely. His gaze locked on her, he asked, "How's the kid? Tyler, I think his name was?"

"He's been upgraded this morning from grave condition to very serious."

A light came to Sam's eyes. "So there's hope for him?"

"That little boy must have a lot of prayers being said on his behalf. Nobody thought he'd make it to another day. So yes, there is definitely hope."

"I'm glad to hear it, and not because I'm worried about any charges. I just don't like seeing kids in the line of fire." Visions of an operation long ago flooded his brain. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to push the memories out of his mind.

"Are you okay?"

"What? You actually care?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You look like you're in pain, that's all." Paxson studied him, and when he caught sight of her through slitted eyes, he saw something in hers. A sadness and determination. He didn't think she was capable of showing emotion.

"Just bad memories. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Well." She cleared her throat and pulled out a small notebook. "Since you're awake, why don't we go over what happened yesterday?"

Sam recounted everything that he remembered up until the time the second round hit his chest and took him down. He didn't know how he hit his head, or that he did. "I just know that the nurse told me I did. I'm sorry, that's all I know. I'm sure it doesn't align with what you'd like to believe."

"What I believe doesn't matter, Mr. Axe."

"Oh, but it does," he said with a smug expression. "Every question you asked was engineered to produce the answer you wanted. I may have a head injury, but I'm not stupid. I've done my share of interrogating people a lot more weasly than you. I know how this works."

It was all she could do to keep from losing her temper in front of him. She held her breath and counted a few seconds, picturing a place where she felt peaceful. "If I need anything else, I'll be back, Mr. Axe. You can count on it."

"I'll be waiting, sweetie."

It took every last shred of control to not reach out and slap the smirk off his face. From what she knew about Sam Axe, and she knew a lot after her first couple of run-ins with Michael and his crew, physical abuse would serve no purpose other than to make him stronger. He'd been through far worse in his career. A friend of hers was able to provide her with classified information on both Axe and Westen, and she gobbled up every morsel of intel. Paxson knew that what happened to the kid touched him deeply because of something from his past, and it would have been easy to feel empathy for him. But nobody felt sorry for her, so she wasn't about to start.

"Good day, Mr. Axe."

He either chose not to reply or he was asleep. Paxson left the room, saw Elsa near the nurse's station, and took a different route out of the hospital.

As soon as that woman emerged from his room, Elsa hurried back to Sam. She would have loved to tear into her for intruding, but Paxson practically ran down the hall away from her. Never mind her. Sammy needs me. She entered the room, approached him and said, "Sammy, are you okay? I was so worried about you being alone with her, but she made me leave. She threatened me with obstruction if I didn't." She took his hand and held it tenderly as she leaned close and touched his shoulder. He sucked in a breath, and she withdrew a little, realizing that she made contact with the bruising. With his hand he reached up and touched her hair.

"I'm fine, baby."

"That detective is out for you and Michael, and I'm afraid she won't be happy until you're both behind bars!"

Sam smiled at the defensive tone in her voice. He didn't have to worry about whether or not he had her support. Elsa would defend him with everything she could. That gave him an idea. "Honey, can you call your brother David?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I think Mike and I are going to need his legal expertise to get us out of this, and he's the only guy I trust to do it."

"Oh, Sammy!" She was near tears.

He raised his head and touched her lips with his. "It's okay. Somehow, we'll make it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I think we have enough to charge them with at least reckless endangerment, disturbing the peace, discharging a firearm within city limits, and maybe armed to the terror of the public." Paxson practically salivated at the list of charges she rattled off to the DA.

Martin Greer looked at her and shook his head. He'd been through this before with her on other cases. He admired Detective Paxson's dedication to catching the bad guys, but sometimes she got a little too feisty with the laws on the books. "Michelle, I'll take your recommendations into consideration."

"That's DA speak for not a chance, isn't it?" She moved her weight to one hip, planted a fist on it, and said, "Martin, why is it that every time I bring you a case like this, you want to let people off with a slap on the wrist? Michael Westen and his friends have been shooting and blowing up things in the Miami area for years now! Isn't it about time you threw the book at them?"

"It was my understanding that they were working under the direction of the CIA and the DEA on this."

"I don't care if Westen got his orders from the President. This has to stop."

"I'll look into it, 'Chelle."

"There's a family with an eight year old boy fighting for his life because of their carelessness. I'm sick and tired of people getting away with this and leaving families broken and scarred for life." She took a step forward and tapped an index finger on his desk in time with her words. "Someone needs to make an example of them."  
"I'll see what I can do. You know I have to investigate this further." Before he could finish his sentence, she was out the door.

After Paxson left, Martin leaned back his chair with a deep sigh. The cool leather felt good after the searing he got from her. He appreciated the detective's dedication to her work and the desire to see justice done. However, from the report she gave him, he just didn't see enough to give the two men more than a citation for discharging firearms in the city and disturbing the peace. Maybe reckless endangerment, but that was iffy. He wasn't lying when he told her he would look into the allegations. After all, the family had already contacted him begging for the harshest charges to be filed against Michael Westen and Sam Axe, as well as the criminals they took down.

The police searched the SUV and found several automatic assault rifles that were illegal, as well as drug residue in the back. Just the weapons charges alone would guarantee a long stay in the Florida penitentiary system. He wasn't worried about the criminals. All the heat was on Westen and Axe. The family and the press were clamoring for the charges. He had pressure on all sides. Martin didn't need Michelle Paxson adding more.

Martin picked up the phone. "Yes, I'd like to speak with Captain Reyes."

Paxson felt lost and unsure of what to do next as she walked out of the DA's office and got in her car. There wasn't anything else she could do, and if Martin didn't put the hammer down, she was afraid that she'd fail the Stanfields. Without thinking, she drove away, her mind aware of traffic yet on its own course. She didn't go back to the station. She parked in front of section 12, got out, and walked across the freshly cut lawn. It always amazed her how lush and green the grass was here. Paxson knew her target and didn't slow down until she neared the recessed concrete slab with the bronze plate attached. She didn't expect anyone else to be there, so when she saw the man standing over it looking down, she halted.

He must have heard her feet swishing over the grass, because he turned and gave her a sad smile. "Michelle."

"Frank... I mean, Father Frank." She smiled slightly at her blunder.

"Oh come on, Sister, you can call me Frank." He grinned at her. "Come to pay your respects to Patrick?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and she moved forward until they stood side by side. She'd hoped to be here alone so she could scream and cry, do whatever it took to ease the pain that squeezed her heart. Now it would fester until it came out; preferably when she could slap the cuffs on someone's wrists.

Frank put an arm around her shoulders. "'Chelle, I heard about this new case, the big shootout, and the kid. I immediately thought of you." At six foot six he towered over her, so he looked down. "I was wondering when you'd come here."

"Are you saying you just got lucky that you came on the same day as me, or have you been stalking this place, hoping I'd show up?"

"Neither. Captain Reyes called me. He got a call from the DA."

Paxson rolled her eyes and pulled away from him. "What now? Did my commander suddenly become Dad or something?"

"He's worried about you." Father Frank eyed her. "And so am I. This has too many similarities to what happened to Pat. Michelle, it's been almost twenty years. It's time to let it go."

"You weren't there, Frank. You didn't hear those shots and then go running out of the house to see him lying there in a pool of his own blood." Her voice rose and she emphasized her words with her hands. "You didn't hold him in your lap as the life drained out of him, just because some FBI guys had to go gangster to arrest some little fish."

"No, I wasn't. I was overseas. Don't think I didn't feel guilty about not being there, Sis. We all have our own personal hells to deal with, but you've let this resentment fester within you for far too long." As he spoke, his hand brushed her arm in a gesture of consolation. He'd dealt with his own demons from the war; but he used his faith to overcome them and became stronger. "The only person you're hurting is yourself, and the satisfaction you get from doggedly pursuing the harshest penalties for the offenders doesn't make the pain go away. Does it?"

Behind her sunglasses, her eyes flashed with anger. "So you think it's okay for these guys to walk?"

"I don't know enough about this case. But I can tell you that if the DA called Reyes, and Reyes called me, you can bet that they're both concerned about where you're trying to go with this." Frank gently grasped her arms and lowered himself to look into her eyes, and said, "You need to do one of two things: go the worldly route and see a counselor about this long-term pain and suffering you've put yourself through, or you come back to church and let Father Behrens help you."

She pulled out of his grip and swiped at her sleeves as if he'd left some holy residue that she'd rather not carry around with her. "I don't have much use for the church. You know that."

"I know. And I think you'd change your mind if you got rid of this hate within you and learned to forgive."

Paxson smiled bitterly. "I'm not that teenager who sang solos in the choir, Frankie. That girl died the day Pat did. She saw too much, and never saw justice served."

"I warned you that joining the force to avenge Patrick's death would be unwise."

"That's not why I did it." She lied, and she knew he was aware that she was lying, but she continued anyway. "I want to clean up the streets and get rid of these dealers, pushers, and gang bangers, the people who, if they'd been locked up right, wouldn't have been there that day. They wouldn't have been there two days ago on that quiet little boulevard. And Westen and Axe wouldn't have been trying to stop them."

"You can't do it by yourself."

"I know that," she snapped. "But it doesn't help when the DA is too afraid to prosecute." She held up a hand and took a step back. "Thanks for the chat, bro... Father... but we're done here. You're not helping any."

"I'm sorry, 'Chelle. I came here as a brother, not a counselor."

"You'll always be a great brother." She stepped close again and hugged him. When she pulled back, she had tears in her eyes. "But this is something I have to deal with on my own. Pursuing this case will help the healing. I'm sure of it." She gave him an unconvincing smile as she patted his back, pulled away, and stooped down to the plate in the grass. She placed a kiss on her fingertips and lightly brushed them over Patrick Paxson's name, then stood. Without another word to Father Frank, she turned and walked back to her car.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Looking up from the papers before her on the small round table in her favorite coffee shop, Dani smiled at the familiar face. "Martin, hi. I haven't seen you in awhile."

"Your agent hasn't been in hot water with Det. Paxson for awhile," Martin replied with a grin of his own. "I'm glad we could meet."

"Michael should be here in a few minutes." She quickly gathered up the stacks of papers and shoved them into her briefcase. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." Martin set his coffee on a cleared space, retrieved a wayward paperclip, and handed it to her. "I have to confess that I was hoping I would run into you and Westen at the same time. I want to get this cleared up with him, and then my next stop will be the hospital. I understand that Sam Axe is doing better, so I want to talk to him too before I make any decisions on the charges."

"I'm surprised you don't just do it and let the lawyers hash it out in court." She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. She'd let it sit far too long, and it went cold.

"I would, except for the fact that I know there are government agencies involved. So far the press has kept quiet on the identities of the men involved..."

"I know, I've seen the reports. I'm not thrilled that they're saying 'agents'. Sam is a civilian, for all practical purposes."

"I understand. But you know what that means. In the interests of protecting the identity of your agent, Axe might wind up as the guy with his name out there and the charges on his head, while Westen goes free."

"I heard my name."

Martin and Dani looked up to see Michael standing next to the table with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Did I miss anything good?" He smiled, but Dani could see pain behind his eyes in addition to the lack of sleep. This ordeal wasn't doing anything to help him.

"Have a seat, Michael." Dani directed him to take the chair between her and Martin.

"We haven't met, Mr. Westen. I'm Martin Greer, the District Attorney for the Miami Metro area. I'm not going to waste your time, or mine, so I'll just cut to the chase on why I'm here. Detective Paxson submitted her report on her interviews with you, Sam Axe, and all the witnesses involved in this incident." He leaned forward and kept his voice low as he spoke, and folded his hands on the table. "She's going after some hefty charges. I want to hear it from you what happened."

Michael glanced at Pearce. "A lot of it is classified."

"I know. Just answer this: why were you on that street with guns blazing?"

"We were trying to get these guys to stick to the island and not get to the port. When they evaded me and started back into the subdivision, we had to stop them." Michael paused and took a drink from his cup. "We didn't have a whole lot of options, because we had no backup."

Dani said, "My team and I were the backup. Unfortunately, a train held us up, so we were about two minutes too late to the party."

"So, if you'd gotten there in time, what would have happened?" Martin looked from Dani to Michael and back.

Michael answered. "Those guys never would have gotten off the island except in handcuffs. We would have disabled their vehicle, and if a shootout had occurred, we would have been the only ones in jeopardy."

"So it was a series of unfortunate events that created the situation. An accident."

"Yes. Sam and I never would have willfully put people in danger to bag these guys. If we'd let them run out of the subdivision, then they would have been on busy streets, and we could have been looking at an even more dangerous situation."

Martin nodded in understanding. "I agree. I want to talk to your friend and get his take on this. But right now I'm feeling pretty confident that the only thing I can really pin on you two is discharge of a firearm in the city and disturbing the peace. That's a ticket and a fine, and no court, no publicity. Your name would never wind up in the press."

"What about Sam?"

"He's a civilian, like Dani said. He'll get the same charges. It would be up to the press whether or not he gets raked in the media." Martin looked down at his cup, then back up to Michael. "No matter whether or not I press charges, the family can still pursue a civil lawsuit against him. I don't know how this will work with you being under the government umbrella."

"We'll take care of it, Michael. It's not a problem."

Michael looked at Dani, and a cold pit of dread settled in his stomach along with a feeling that Sam was being betrayed. Whether by Michael and his special status, or the government Sam served for so many years, that was unclear. "So I get a free pass, and despite everything that Sam's done, he's not in the club, so he doesn't get the same benefits?"

"I'm sorry, Michael. But that's the way it is." She did look truly sorry, but that didn't make him feel better.

"That is... well, you know what I think about that, Pearce. If Sam doesn't get immunity, neither do I. I'm not letting him take full responsibility for something we did together. I was the one driving, so if anything, it should be on my shoulders." He scraped the chair legs on the tile floor and stood. "If it means I get outed and lose my status at the agency, fine. I don't care anymore. The stakes have been too high."

"Michael, no!" Dani stood and grabbed his arm. She spoke close to his ear. "Don't throw away everything now. Think about all the work you did to get back into the agency, all the people who died to take down Anson and his team. Don't let Nate's death be in vain."

Michael's eyes turned cold as he stared her down. He ripped his arm out of her grip. "Don't you ever, ever, use my brother's name in a sentence like that again." He turned his attention to the DA. "Are we done?"

"Yes, I think Dani and I can handle things from here."

"Good. I have to go." He pressed his sunglasses onto his face and turned away, striding out of the coffee shop with a stiffness in his gait.

Dani knew he was angry. She hadn't meant to say what she did about Nate, but it was too late to take it back. Martin rose, gave her an embarrassed smile, and said, "I'll talk to you later. I'm going to visit Sam Axe right now, but when I make my decision on the charges, I'll let you know first. Then we'll discuss how we'll handle it."

Sam was alone when Martin entered the hospital room. He was reading a book, engrossed its pages, when the DA knocked on the door frame. "Mr. Axe?"

"Yeah, that's me," Sam answered warily as he peered over the hardcover. "Hey, you're the DA, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me," Martin replied with a small smile. "Mind if I come in? I want to talk to you about what happened the other day."

"I've been advised by my attorney that I shouldn't say anything unless he's present."

Martin came into the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. "I would assume that your attorney has already gotten a copy of the police report."

"As a matter of fact, yes he has." Sam wanted to say something more, but he restrained himself. He marked his place in the book, closed it, and placed it on the tray table. He took off the glasses that he used occasionally and lay them next to the book as he said, "Mike warned me you were coming, so I called David, and he's on his way. David Callahan."

Martin knew the name. He was one of the best defense attorneys in Coral Gables, if not the entire Miami area. Either Sam Axe had some deep pockets, or he was sleeping with someone who knew Callahan. Martin was betting on the latter.

Almost as if on cue, David Callahan swept into the room. "Hey Sam, got your message and hurried right over. I was just finishing up a court case that went to a mistrial, so you can imagine what a zoo that was!" He stopped beside Sam's bed and glanced at Martin. "Marty, you just couldn't wait for my client to get back on his feet before you started kicking him? Cold, real cold."

"David. Always a pleasure to see you." Martin muttered. Then he relaxed his jaw and said, "You'll be happy to know that I just want to get Mr. Axe's side of the story to see how it matches with the report I've been given by Detective Paxson."

David tsked. "You should really consider getting that woman some professional help. The way she goes after my clients, it's criminal in and of itself." His smile was like steel. "Anyway, you were saying you want Sam's story. Sounds to me like you've already assumed that what he attests to will be pure fiction."

Martin wouldn't let himself be baited. He answered as professionally as he could. "I want the truth. That's all."

David turned his attention to Sam. "Go ahead and tell him. If I hear anything that sounds incriminating, I'll ask you to stop."

Sam nodded. "Okay." He gave Martin his attention. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you, considering that the mission we were on was classified."

"I understand that the plan was to keep the criminals on the island."

"That's correct. Except they tried to go back through the residential area. Mikey cut them off, but then the SUV driver did some fancy driving of his own. The guy was running out of road. If we'd kept up next to them they would have run into the parking lane and taken out a bunch of cars." He paused. "So Mike pulled back, let them slip between us and the line of parked cars, and then he nailed them."

"You mean, hit the SUV with his car."

"Yeah. The shooting didn't start until the vehicles were stopped." Sam relayed the rest of the scenario and it lined up neatly with Paxson's report and what he learned from Westen himself. "But I'm sorry, I don't know what happened for awhile there. That guy shot me twice. I had a vest on, and the first shot didn't do anything. That second one, coming so close on the first, kind of threw me off balance, I think."

"That's when you fell and hit the curb?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam looked like he was concentrating on trying to remember. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, it's just not coming back."

"It's okay, it's not important."

"When I woke up, Dani, Agent Pearce, was leaning over me. She brought me here, I think. It's kind of fuzzy between getting shot and waking up in the emergency room on a gurney."

Martin nodded. "Well, I've got enough. Thank you for your time, Mr. Axe."

Sam looked at him with a worried expression on his face. "So, did I hang myself?"

With a smile and a chuckle, Martin shook his head. "Not at all."

"Are you charging Sam with anything?" David stood with his briefcase balanced on the rail, his hands tightly gripping the sides.

Martin sobered and directed his reply to Sam's attorney. "I'll let you know by tomorrow morning at the latest." Martin turned and tossed over his shoulder, "Have a good day, gentlemen!"

He left David and Sam unsettled, not knowing what this all meant. Martin still wasn't sure what his final decision would be, but of one thing he was certain: what happened was an accident. There was no malice involved. The worst that would come of this for Westen and Axe were a couple of citations and a fine, if the judge was so inclined. After that, it was up to the Stanfields what they wanted to do on a civil playing field.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Someone's at the door. Can you get that Fiona?"

"Sure, Madeline." Fiona unfurled herself from the couch as she set aside her magazine, and her bare feet padded swiftly to the wooden door. She peered through the slats in the blinds in the window next to it first. Her caution was a byproduct of the past couple of weeks, although it was in her very nature to be careful. Even though Anson was dead, who's to say that someone else wouldn't be out trying to take down Michael? Surely they would come to his childhood home first if they knew where it was. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she couldn't get the door open fast enough.

"Hi, Fi." His smile was restrained.

"Michael!" The exclamation squeaked out of her as she jumped into his open arms and held him tightly.

"I've missed you so much." Michael buried his face in the crook of her neck, took in the scent of her, and held onto her as if it had been years since they last touched. "How is she?"

"Still hurting, as you can imagine." Fiona smoothed his hair in the back. It was getting longer than he usually kept it. The past few weeks had been hard on him, and she could tell that he wasn't taking care of himself like he should. "She and I have been talking a lot about you."

"You have?" The look in his eyes told her that he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I think I'm starting to break through the anger, to convince her that the last thing you would have wanted to do was put Nate in danger. That it was ultimately his choice to be there."

"Fi, she has to see that it wasn't all my fault. I'm taking enough blame for this whole thing with the kid. I don't know how much more..."

"Fiona, I thought I told you I didn't want him here," Maddie groused around a freshly lit cigarette that hung from her lips. She wouldn't even look him in the eye.

Michael's voice cracked. "Mom. Please, listen to me. I need to talk to you."

"I suppose you want to talk about what you and Sam did to that little boy." She blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, watching it disburse. "Come to me expecting me to let you cry on my shoulder and make you feel better. I can't do that. I can't support what you do, Michael, because all it ever does it hurt people. People die because of what you do." Her words got lost in her tears, and she spun on her heel and hurried out the back door.

Michael's body lurched with a stifled sob. Fiona looked up at him and saw a single tear roll down his cheek, a precursor of more to come. It took a lot to make him cry, and no doubt his mother's alienation and the kid were the last straw. Fiona had to decide if she would be there to support him, and immediately, her soul cried out a resounding 'yes' because she loved him. In her mind, there was no other answer. She put her arms around his waist and held him close.

"She doesn't mean it," Fiona whispered. "She's still in mourning."

"No, she means it. And she's right. No matter what I do, people die." His hands dropped to his sides, even though Fiona still held onto him. "If it weren't for me, so many people would be alive now. Good people who lost their lives because of their association with me."

"What would you have done instead of hunt those who burned you? If you'd laid down and taken that lame security guard job that Bly offered you... Michael, you might have been alive, as well as all those other people, but in here," she pointed to his heart, "You would have died. You wouldn't be the man I love."

"You love a killer, Fi. Does that make you proud?"

"You make it sound like you're of the same ilk as Larry!" She huffed, horrified at the idea of comparing Michael to his old handler. "Please, Michael, self-pity isn't your style." Fiona grabbed his shirt, pulling hard so that he looked down at her with confusion. "Don't let your mother's pain turn you against yourself. Go and talk to her. Don't let her walk away. You two are cut from the same cloth, and underneath that cloak of stubborn is a heart that longs for your love." Fiona blinked. "She's hurting for you, Michael, as much as she hurts for herself. Just break through the wall and you'll see it."

He could barely get two words out clearly. Slipping his arms around her again, he whispered, "What would I do without you, Fi?"

"You'd be up the creek without the canoe," she answered in a brogue that made him laugh softly. She smiled at him, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and said, "Go. Now. And talk to her."

Michael nodded and unwound himself from Fiona. She stepped out of his way and he passed her. In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher, grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, and went out the back door. He found his mother sitting in a chair at the umbrella table. The shade didn't give much relief from the heat and humidity. Usually self-assured, Michael knew what to do when approaching an enemy. But this was his mother, even if she did hate him at the moment. The fragility of their relationship caused him to hesitate. Then he took a breath, resolved to accept whatever venom she threw at him, and respond with love. He wasn't quite sure how to do that. Maybe he'd learn as he went along. He glanced up at the sky, praying that he didn't screw this up, and moved toward the table.

Madeline had her back to him, but she knew when he came toward her. She caught a whiff of his aftershave on the slight breeze. In response, she lit another cigarette off the previous one and stubbed its remains into the nearly full ashtray. For a moment, it reminded her of how easily lives were snuffed out if they were around her son too long, and that thought reinforced the invisible wall around her.

He set the pitcher and glasses on the table and poured the iced tea. "Ma, you should drink something. It's hot out here." He pushed a glass toward her and sat with a few feet of empty space between them.

"I'm not thirsty."

He heard the stored up hurt and sorrow in her voice.

"Crying takes a lot out of you."

"I didn't know you'd become an expert." She turned her cold gaze on him. "Even as a little boy, you hardly ever cried."

He swallowed as he curled his hand around the sweating glass and stared at it. "That's because I couldn't let Dad see my weakness. Remember how he used to mock Nate if he cried? I didn't want him doing that to me."

"And look how you turned out." She waved the hand holding the cigarette in the air. "You're so detached, it's scary. Nate was emotional. He loved you. He was... human."

"If you think I'm detached about what happened to Nate..." He stopped himself. Settle down, she doesn't need your defensiveness right now.

"He's dead, Michael. It wasn't just something minor that happened to him, like a scraped knee. He's not coming back, and it's your fault."

"I know he's not coming back. Ma, I told Nate not to engage Anson. The witnesses at the casino said that Anson started to leave, and Nate took matters into his own hands. If he hadn't brought him outside..."

"That's not the point. He never should have been there to begin with! He should have been with you! Why wasn't he, Michael? Because you told him to leave, that's why!"

Michael leaned over the table, his arms on the surface as he bowed his head. "Yes, I did. I told him to leave." A tsunami of sorrow rolled over him, and his forehead dropped to the surface. He didn't move for a few moments, and his mother said nothing. Then he found the strength to raise his head and look at her, a fresh map of wetness covering his cheeks, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Ma, to my dying day I will always regret the way I treated Nate. There was no excuse for it. I was terrible to him, and I wanted to say I was sorry, but I can't... it's too late." He paused, trying to find the breath to admit it. "As my penance, I will have to live with that for the rest of my life."

"And I have to live with the fact that I had to bury my baby."

"I'm sorry, Ma. If I could trade places with him, you'd all be better off. You wouldn't have people breaking into your house, trying to kidnap you or kill you... If it had been up to me, when I was burned, I never would have come here. I would have spared you and Nate." His voice came out strained. "I'm sorry."

Madeline watched her son crumble before her. She hadn't seen anything like it since he was a little boy. Not even at the funeral, when he sat there stone faced, and she hated him for that. She didn't understand how he could not express his pain at the loss of his brother. But now she saw it as plain as day, and as he collapsed on the table top, shoulders bucking from the intensity of his cries, she remembered the things Fiona told her.

She reminded Maddie that Michael loved his brother. He may not have said it, but he proved it all his life by deflecting his father's rage, providing for the family by shoplifting groceries, and stealing a car when Nate needed to go to the doctor. If they'd been a normal family, people would have looked on those actions and been shocked. Maddie had been so proud of her older son because she knew the motive behind the madness. When he left, her heart broke. But he came back. Not by choice, but as time went by, he resumed the role of protector and again proved how much his family meant to him. This was the only time he failed them, and for that she would banish him from her presence for the rest of his life? An unpleasant twinge of guilt came over her. She wanted to be angry with him, but he was her child, her only child now. She loved him dearly. Seeing him in such heart-wrenching agony was too much, and the walls crashed down.

"Oh, Michael. Honey." Madeline squashed out her cigarette and scooted her chair next to his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and together they released all the heartache of the past and shared in the suffering over what they lost.

From behind the screen door, Fiona watched with a river of sorrow flowing down her own cheeks, yet happy that they'd broken through. Now the healing could begin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The next day, Sam was released from the hospital. He hadn't slept well the night before, knowing that he hadn't heard anything yet about the charges, if there were any. Elsa came to take him home, and she brought him a clean outfit but no news from David.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I was hoping he would let me know before I left the hotel, and I've had my phone on." She placed his clothes on the bed next to where he sat testing his equilibrium before he stood. She turned back to the curtain, pulled it shut to keep prying eyes from the hall looking in, and approached him with a warm smile. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him briefly. "I'll be so glad to have you home again, darling."

"I'll be glad to be home. Hopefully it won't be temporary." He slipped his arms around her waist, pulled her against the edge of the bed, and kissed her more deeply. "Thank you for standing by me through all this."

"How can I not? I love you, Sammy."

"I love you too, Elsa." He kissed her again, sending a shiver through her body.

When he freed her lips, she grinned up at him. "I kind of like this. I have easy access to everything back there." She ran her hand down his spine where the edges of the gown gapped, and giggled.

"Hey, hey, enough of that!" He gently pushed her away and cocked a grin. "There's plenty of time for that later." He put his feet on the floor and stood, tucked his clothes against his body, and held the gown closed with one hand. "I'll be right back."

"Oh," Elsa pouted. "You're not going to change in front of me? Pity." Her moue turned into a saucy smile.

Sam would have played along, but he had too much on his mind. The only good news he'd heard so far was that Tyler was improving every day. In a week or two he might even go home, barring any complications. The kids in El Salvador weren't so lucky all those years ago. Whenever he watched the news and saw a picture of the Stanfield boy on television, he was reminded of the brother and sister who lost their lives because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone mourned their deaths, but because it was a war zone, they understood the risk. Miami wasn't El Salvador, but on the day of the accident, that street became a stage of conflict.

When he emerged from the bathroom fully clothed except for his shoes, he found David with Elsa looking up at the television. His gaze zeroed in on her and her shining face. Then he looked at David and asked, "Well? What's the news?"

"Check it out for yourself." He hit the volume button on the remote.

_"In an unanticipated turn of events, District Attorney Greer has decided to not press charges against the two men involved in the shootout with drug cartel members earlier this week. The two men, whose names cannot be disclosed as they are employed by the United States government, were acting in accordance with the law concerning government agencies. The injured boy's parents had hoped that they would be charged with reckless endangerment and attempted homicide. However, the DA insisted that there was not enough evidence to try them on either charge." _The anchorwoman paused. _"District Attorney Greer held a press conference this morning to give his statement."_

The camera cut to Martin Greer at a podium. _"After careful consideration of all the evidence, I found that the majority of these accusations were unfounded. What happened was an accident. The two men involved did everything humanly possible to protect the residents, risking their own lives in the process, and it was unfortunate that Tyler Stanfield was caught by a stray bullet. I assure you that this was an isolated incident, and the agency involved will take measures to ensure that this does not happen again."_

Reporters shouted out questions, but the DA left the podium without giving them consideration. David turned off the television and smiled. "So, there you have it, you're a free man, Sam. No citations or fines, even. I'm almost embarrassed to say how little time I had to spend on this case."

"Do I want to know what you did?"

"Let's just say that Agent Pearce and I persuaded the DA to keep it classified." He grinned. Then he glanced at his watch. "Uh oh, I have to take off. I have a deposition in an hour. Good luck, Sam!" He shook Sam's hand. "See ya later, Sis." He kissed Elsa's cheek. "We'll all have to get together sometime and go out on the boat, huh?" David waved, and then he was gone.

"Well, that was easy. Easier than I thought it would be."

"That's what happens when David and the CIA start throwing some weight around, honey." Elsa ran her hands over Sam's shirt collar to whisk away a couple of wrinkles. "Put your shoes on, and let's get you out of here."

Elsa packed a bag with his other things and a list of instructions that the doctor gave her with some medications. An orderly showed up with a wheelchair. "Ready, Mr. Axe?"

"I'm ready." He looked at the wheelchair, less than thrilled about subjecting himself to it, but he knew there was no way he was getting out of it. With a small sigh, he turned and settled himself in it.

Michael waited in the lobby. When the elevator door opened, Sam saw him and grinned. "Mikey! You didn't have to come pick me up. You know Elsa had that covered."

"Yeah, I know. I just thought I'd escort you."

"Escort me? Why?"

"You haven't seen the mob out there," Fiona replied as she stood beside Michael. Maddie came up to flank his other side.

"Fi? Maddie?" Now he was mystified, and concerned. He knew Maddie was nearly manic with anger at Michael for his role in Nate's death. Yet here she was, standing with her son. "Did I miss something?"

"Michael and I had a long talk while you were in the hospital," Maddie replied. "Well, we did more crying than talking, but... we also did a lot of forgiving." A weak smile crossed her lips. "It was just an accident. Nate was always running head first into trouble, and it finally caught up with him."

Sam's words came out strained. "He died a hero, Maddie."

"I know, honey." She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. "Well, we better get this... extraction... done. There are some crazy people out there!"

Sam's eyes focused on several dozen people standing outside the front entrance. Some of them held up signs, and they appeared to be shouting or chanting something, but from where he and his friends assembled, the voices were muted. "Looks like a lynch mob!"

"Exactly. And that's why we're not going out that way," Michael said.

"Aren't you worried about what they'll do to you, Mike? Why should I be the only one concerned?"

"One of the TV stations leaked your name, Sam, and apparently there are a lot of people who aren't happy with the lack of charges against us. You're not safe anymore." Michael turned his back on the people. "Come on, let's go."

Sam sensed a sinking feeling in his gut as he realized that he'd suddenly become one of Michael's clients.

"I took the liberty of moving Elsa's car to the parking garage," Fiona said.

"I never gave you my keys!" One look at the mischievous spark in Fiona's eyes, and Elsa nodded. "I see." She glanced at Sam and took his hand. "We better go, huh, Sammy?"

"Follow me." Michael led the way toward the back of the hospital and out the doors that led to the garage. No one looked at them twice.

"Sam, I want you to ride with me," Fiona said as she pulled at his elbow and led him to her car. "Madeline and Michael will go together."

"We need all our experienced drivers." Michael approached his car and said, "Elsa, Jesse will drive your car, and you two will serve as a decoy if necessary."

Elsa saw Jesse standing next to her vehicle, his eyes roving, watching for anyone suspicious. He smiled and asked Elsa, "You okay with this? I mean, it's just in case things get hairy."

"I-I suppose. Do you really think someone will try to go after us?"

"They might," Michael replied. "We're only taking precautions. We have three cars, and Jesse and I will run interference. Fi's job will be to get Sam to the hotel. Once he's there, can your security be assured to keep him, well, secure?"

"Of course! If not, I need to hire new people!" She looked at Michael with horror on her face.

"Okay, just asking. Our backup is my mom's house or the loft. It depends on if we get tailed and we need to shake off anyone. Everybody have their phones on conference call, so we can keep in touch."

Michael's car served as the lead, and Jesse took the rear with Elsa's Cadillac. Fiona and Sam were in her blue Hyundai in the middle. If a light turned amber, Michael stopped so that no one would be left behind. They made it to the hotel without incident, but it wasn't until Sam was safely upstairs in the penthouse that Michael felt he could finally relax.

"Okay, we're going to take off," Michael said as he moved toward the door with Jesse, Fiona, and Madeline. "Will you two be..."

"Mike, don't worry!" Sam smiled in appreciation at his friend's concern. "We'll get some extra security up here for awhile, just in case some fruitcake decides to try to get in."

"When you go to the pool or out to dinner..."

"Mike, I know how to protect myself. Jeez!" Sam almost pushed him toward the door. "Elsa and I will just hole up here for a few days and not go anywhere. We'll be fine."

"Keep your phone charged and call me if anything happens."

Sam didn't respond. He only gave Michael a long stare. Long enough for Michael to throw up his hands and turn away.

"Okay, okay, we're going! I'll talk to you soon!" Michael smiled reassuringly at Elsa. "You guys just give this a week, and it'll fade into the back pages and eventually drop off the public radar. Then we just have to deal with the family, if they decide to sue or something. Trust me, it'll be fine."

"It's sweet how worried he is about you," Elsa said after the group went down in the elevator. She nodded at the doorman and closed the penthouse door, locking it behind them.

"I'm just as concerned about him, you know." Sam took her into his arms. He pressed his lips to hers, hungry for the chance to finally be alone. "I missed this, baby."

"Me too."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sleeping with Elsa, Sam should have felt settled and safe. He did, sort of, but he couldn't shake the fact that in some people's eyes, he was a wanted man. Instead of tossing and turning and waking Elsa, Sam got up in the wee hours of the morning, made himself some coffee, and turned on the television. He raced through the cable stations, finding nothing engaging. That happened a lot when real life was just too dramatic that it beat anything on the airwaves. He stopped at a local news show. One of the morning personalities sat in an overstuffed chair while her guest sat on a comfortable looking couch. He wouldn't have even bothered to stop except for the fact that he heard his name.

_"Mr. Axe isn't even working for the government. He was there in an unofficial capacity, and because of that, my clients are pursuing more charges. The government can't protect him like the other man involved."_

_"But the District Attorney said that there would be no charges," the anchorwoman countered._

_"Do you think it's right that he should wantonly put lives in danger and then walk away unscathed?"_

I got news for you, lady. The lump on the back of my head can tell you differently.

_"Of course not. But..."_

_"Neither do we. We will not quit until justice is served. There is a growing social media campaign going on right now. We have a web page, blog, and hundreds of people, if not thousands, have been flooding the internet with their support for Tyler." The woman smiled. "And we have members of the state senate who are also outraged at this travesty. This week, we expect Tyler's Law to be submitted for debate."_

_ "Tyler's Law?"_

_ "Yes. Tyler's Law will make it illegal for anyone to conduct a car chase, whether it's civilian, police, or government agents doing the chasing, and it will prohibit the use of firearms and other weapons to apprehend the suspects."_

Sam listened, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. What the hell does she expect us to use, a horse and a lasso? The woman was completely nuts. He should have turned off the station, but part of him couldn't wait to hear what other nonsense spewed out of her mouth.

_"Mandatory punishment will be 25 years, and if an innocent person dies, those involved will receive the death penalty." She paused. "It's high time that people like Sam Axe realize that their actions have consequences, and they can't play with people's lives. This isn't some TV show, it's real life, and people are dying because of these self-appointed crime fighters."_

_ "So, you're saying that when law enforcement attempts to stop a criminal, they can't chase them at all? How do you expect them to arrest the perpetrators?"_

_ "There are other ways."_

_ "But you're saying they should let them get away and possibly reoffend until they're caught using these other methods."_

_ "Thats' correct. We're living in the 21__st__ century. There's no need for such uncivilized tactics."_

_ "I see." Even the anchorwoman looked doubtful. "But this legislation won't help the current situation. And, fortunately, in this case Tyler survived and is getting better every day."_

_ "That's true, and that's why there are civil courts. If the law won't help us, there is always the pursuit of financial compensation for the pain and suffering this family has gone through. The Stanfield's are not wealthy. They're regular middle class America, and the medical bills alone will bankrupt them. Someone has to pay for it. It might as well be Sam Axe."_

_ "Well, we're all out of time, Ms. Lawrence. Thank you for coming in so early this morning."_

_ "My pleasure. We need to get the word out that this guy is public enemy number one right now." _

_ The anchorwoman pursed her lips, biting back a comment. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you just tuned in, my guest is Ms. Sandra Lawrence, attorney for the Tyler Stanfield family, discussing the recent shooting of her clients' son, and the city's impotent reaction. You're watching A.M. Miami, and we'll be right back after our sponsors' messages to talk with our Master Gardener Gus on fall plantings."_

Sam wanted to throw the remote through the TV and hit that attorney upside the head. She was talking nonsense, making it out like everything that happened was on purpose. Of all the cases he worked with Michael, he couldn't think of more than a handful of times where innocent bystanders were in danger. Usually it was the client who had the problem, and the team always did their very best to make sure the clients were out of harm's way. If those kids had only listened to Mike, but of course, no one wanted to pin any responsibility on innocent children. How can we make this all stop? He released a deep breath, let his head rest on the top of the couch back, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Headache again, sweetheart?"

Sam startled and turned to face Elsa. "Honey, what are you doing up?" He glanced at his watch. "It's still really early."

"I know. How long have you been awake?"

He shrugged. "It's been awhile, I guess."

Elsa sighed, leaned over the couch and kissed his brow. "Sammy, you have to stop letting this get to you. Those people are ignorant. Maybe if you went on that morning show and set the record straight..."

"No, it won't work, baby. They'd never listen. When people let emotions take over, reason flies out the window. I'd just be making things worse." He stood and moved toward the bedroom. "I think I'll get in a swim before this place wakes up and somebody gets offended because I dared to show my face in public."

"I should go with you." Elsa hurried to his side and entered the bedroom with him.

"No." He gripped her arms. "I don't want you to get in the middle of this."

"Sammy."

"Elsa, please."

She looked into his eyes and saw a sadness in them. He was suffering, but he was afraid to tangle her in his problem. "Honey, don't you understand? You and I, we're a team, like you and your friends. I'm on your side, and I'll be there no matter what. "

"It's just a swim in the pool. I'm not going to the beach. And I promise, I'll keep an eye out."

"I'm sending a security guard with you, if you won't let me come."

He nodded. "Okay."

After he left, Elsa called Michael. It was still very early, but she knew that he would want to get this call.

He answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Michael, it's Elsa."

"Elsa. Is Sam okay?"

"Physically, he's fine. But I'm worried about him, Michael. Ever since he came home from the hospital, he's been moping around in the day time, when he's not sleeping, which he's doing far too much of, and he won't go out. It's been a week, and he still insists on having room service provide all our meals. If I can get him to go out, we wait until it's very late to take a stroll around the pool area." She swallowed back a lump. "This morning I found him watching some stupid news program. They were crucifying him and talking about some legislation they want to pass because of what happened to Tyler. It's crazy."

"Where's Sam right now?"

"He went down to the pool to swim some laps."

"Well, that's progress, isn't it?" Michael asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

"I suppose. But he couldn't wait until the pool officially opened. Michael, this isn't Sam. He's never afraid to go out in public!" Being in the hotel business, crises were a part of Elsa's daily life, and she knew how to handle them. This, however, left her feeling that she was in over her head.

"Tell you what. I'll get dressed, go over there and swim laps with him, and see if we can talk about this. Maybe there's something I can do to help on that end, because frankly, I haven't been able to get too far trying to figure out who's behind this smear campaign."

"It's more like a terror campaign."

"I agree. You know, if this keeps up we can always counter with a pain and suffering lawsuit against the Stanfields."  
"Michael, that's terrible! Isn't that family going through enough?" Elsa was horrified that he'd even consider it, but she was also disgusted with herself because the same thought had occurred to her.

"Sorry, but I'm not feeling a whole lotta love for them right now. I've seen the articles in the paper and the discussions on TV. Most of the time, this stuff blows over after a week or two, but these people are milking it and trying to turn it into a Federal case. They should be more worried about taking care of their son."

"I understand that he's being released from the hospital today."

"Yes. He's going home, he's alive and healing, and they should just be thankful for that. Some of us aren't so lucky."

Elsa knew what Michael's statement referenced. "I'm sorry, Michael, that this is bringing up everything with Nate."

"It's okay. I'm always going to be reminded. It's just too raw yet."

"Well, you know you've got our support. We're like family, and don't you forget that!"

"I won't. I'll be over there in a little while, okay?"

"Alright. Thank you very much."

Less than a half hour later, Elsa heard a commotion outside the door, followed by a knock. Elsa approached and asked, "Who is it?"

"Security, ma'am."

Elsa opened the door and found one of her bigger and beefier staff members standing beside Fiona. The contrast between large and small was striking. Fiona glared up at him, but when she turned to Elsa, she smiled.

"Fiona! Come on in!" She ushered her inside and gave the security man a look that said she would speak with him later. He nodded and closed the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Michael thought it would be a good idea if I got you out of here for awhile. Let's go get some breakfast and then do a little shopping."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yes. Don't worry, I can handle myself." She patted her hip pack, and Elsa spotted the outline of a gun.

"Of course you can. But..."

"No buts about it. Michael will keep Sam occupied and talk to him about this depression he's falling into. It'll be fine."

"I hope you're right."

"You know, sometimes I wish men were like us. I know there's nothing that can perk me right up quite like buying a new pair of shoes."

Elsa laughed. "I know what you mean. I could use a few pairs myself."

"It's settled, then. Let's go! I hope you don't mind, Madeline is coming along. She went with Michael to the pool to see Sam." Fiona's smile widened. "She still can't help acting like a mother to him. So we'll get her and be on our way!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He'd lost track of how many laps he'd swum. It didn't matter. He was just intent on wearing himself out, and then he would go back upstairs and sleep the morning away. After lunch, if he felt like eating, he would sit on the balcony with a book and maybe take another nap. He could get used to this, if it wasn't so incredibly boring. Sam heard a large splash just as he reached the deep end of the pool. He reached out and touched the edge, preparing to turn and go back on a side stroke. One moment he was sucking in a breath, and the next, he found himself being pushed underwater. He twisted out from under the stiff arm and landed a punch to his assailant's side. In the water it wasn't very effective, but at least it made a point. He would not go easy. The attacker grabbed his arm and turned his limb until the pain became excruciating, but Sam kicked him in the groin and he let go.

He was almost out of air, so when Sam surfaced, he greedily gulped the oxygen. An arm came up, followed by a torrent of water enveloping his attacker. A knife glinted in the morning sunlight just before it came down at him. Sam grabbed the wrist and disarmed him as they thrashed about in the water.

Another large splash behind him, and an arm clamped around his throat. In a matter of seconds, the pressure would cause him to black out. He elbowed the limb's owner in the stomach. The vise grip around his neck loosened, and Sam pushed away. The first assailant came back after retrieving his knife at the bottom of the pool and sliced down at him.

"Sam!"

He heard someone call his name, but he had no time to figure out if it was friend or foe. He cried out as the blade sunk into his upper arm and the attacker quickly withdrew it. The other man got his hands on Sam again and pushed him under. He didn't have time to get an adequate breath. As he fought to get to the surface, Sam noted the wisps of blood swirling in the blue water. This was it. He didn't get to say goodbye to Elsa this time. One of his attackers kicked him as he swam away.

"Sam! No, no, no, you are not gonna do this to me," Michael growled and dove head first into the water. He had barely enough time to sink when Michael pulled his friend to the side of the pool. With the help of a guard, he rolled him onto his side on the deck.

"Michael, is he alright? Who did this?"

"I don't know, Ma. They got away." He looked up at the guard. "Where were you? You were supposed to be watching him!"

Before the guard could answer, Sam began coughing and he took in a raspy breath. Michael looked up at her and smiled. "I think that means he'll be okay." He turned his attention to Sam and rolled him so he lay on his back. "Sam, come on, look at me. Look at me!"

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "M-Mikey. Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"Ma, can you get me a towel?"

With just a nod, Maddie hurried away and soon returned with more than one.

"Thanks." He pressed against the two inch gash in Sam's arm, and his friend winced. "Sorry, Sam. That's gonna hurt a little, but I've gotta stop the bleeding."

"Yeah, I know." He turned his head and looked at the pool. The surface was slowly calming. "Where'd those guys go?"

"They took off when I called your name." He leaned closer and said, "Personally, I wouldn't trust these in-house security guys anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them tipped somebody off that you were here, and they sent a couple guys over to take care of business, so to speak."

Sam made a sound of disgust. "I'm not even safe here?"

"Afraid not." He put pressure on Sam's wound. "Think you can sit up?"

"Yeah." He took the towel from Michael and pressed it to his arm as he sat upright.

"Sam, what happened?"

The men looked up and saw Fiona and Elsa running to them. The wound stung enough to take his breath away when he pressed on it, but he managed to put on a smile and reply, "It's okay, pumpkin, just a scratch. It's no big deal."

Michael helped Sam to stand. "We're going upstairs to fix this, and then you and I are finding a new safe house."

"What about my house, or the loft," Maddie asked softly.

"We can't take a chance that someone knows about them. We need some other location."

"Mike, I know just the place. It's kind of rustic, but I think it'll do just fine."

Michael didn't like it, but it was all they had. "Okay. While you get ready, I'll call Jesse and have him meet us in the lobby when we're ready to move."

Fiona turned to Elsa. "I'm afraid we'll have to postpone the shoe shopping. Michael and Sam need my help."  
"Of course! I want to come along."

"No!" Michael and Sam chorused, then Sam said, "Honey, this is too dangerous. You stay here. Don't worry, this'll be over soon."

Elsa didn't look convinced, but she led the way upstairs. She brought Michael the supplies he asked for to stitch up Sam's arm, and she handed him the things he needed even as watching him work made her ill.

"Sam, you should really let a doctor take care of that. What about the risk of an infection?"

"Elsa, both Sam and I have had a lot of experience patching up people in the field. It's okay." He concentrated on his work a moment. "It just hit muscle, didn't get down to the bone. Just a flesh wound."

"He's right, sweetheart. My chances of getting an infection here are probably less than in the hospital, believe it or not. Certainly less chance of getting lead poisoning on the way there." He chuckled nervously.

Elsa scowled at him. "I wish you'd take this seriously! I'm scared!"

Michael applied a bandage to protect his handiwork, and Sam stood and took her into his arms. "I know, Elsa, honey. But you have to trust us. We know what we're doing. And now I'm going to change, pack a few things, and we're getting out of here. You stay behind."

"But..."

"I'm sorry. I won't be able to call you until this is over. Can't risk someone tracing the signal."

Elsa blinked back tears. This was getting too crazy to be believed. "Do you really think someone will use that kind of technology just to find you and exact their revenge?"

"We've seen it happen." Sam quickly moved to the bedroom, and in a few minutes he emerged in khakis and one of his more muted earth tone shirts and carried a small bag. "I love you, Elsa. I promise, I'll see you soon." With a quick but loving kiss and embrace goodbye, he was gone with Michael and Fiona.

Maddie stayed behind and patted her arm. "It'll be okay. They'll keep him safe."

Jesse met them in the lobby, which was deserted except for a few staff members. The three created a barrier around Sam and ushered him to the parking garage where Jesse had parked a tan SUV.

Sam studied the vehicle. "New wheels, Jess?"

"Nope, borrowed, courtesy of Dani Pearce."

"Oh great, now she's finally concerned when people are trying to kill me." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sam," Michael warned as he shoved his friend into the back. "Now get down, and shut up." He threw a light blanket over Sam as he crunched himself down to fit in the cramped space among the supplies for their safe house.

"This is going to be awfully uncomfortable."

"I suppose you'd rather be dead," Michael snapped as he took the back seat, and Jesse and Fiona sat up front. Feeling a sense of guilt for his shortness with Sam, he threw an arm over the seat back and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, I'm just..."

Sam pulled the blanket back just enough to see Michael. "Yeah, I know. Let's just get out of here." He covered himself, and Jesse put the vehicle in gear.

Once they were on the road, Michael asked, "Where are we headed, Sam?"

"You remember Virgil's place, right?" Sam's voice came up muffled, but Michael heard him.

"Yeah."

"He gave me a key for emergencies like this."

"Oh, boy. You weren't kidding when you said it was 'rustic'." Michael hated holing up with someone with a target on their head, even if it was his best friend, but to share a swamp with mosquitos, snakes, alligators, and God knew what else, that was no picnic. "Okay. Jesse, head south, and I'll tell you when to get off the highway."

"You got it."

"I know you don't like this idea, Mike, but at least you're not the guy stuck in back feeling every bump and pothole in the road! Ow! Jesse, do you mind? Jeez!"

"Sorry, Sam!"

He heard a soft chuckle, and if the situation weren't so dangerous, he would have gotten out from under the blanket and let him have a piece of his mind. Instead, he was grateful for friends who were willing to hide with him for awhile.

It took two hours to get to Virgil's place out in the 'glades. Sam's friend hadn't been there for awhile, so the lane had grown over, which created its own set of problems. Once Jesse parked in front of Virgil's wood cabin, they all got out except for Sam.

"Stay here until we sweep the place," Michael said.

"Make it fast, 'cause it's really hot in here."

"We'll do our best."

While Sam sweltered under the blanket, Michael, Fiona, and Jesse drew their weapons and searched the property for squatters or anyone who intended to catch them off guard. Michael had Virgil's key, which Sam gave him, so he unlocked the cabin and entered. It was old, smelled of mustiness and rotting wood, and the roof looked certain to leak in a rain storm. There was no electricity or gas, but a well supplied running water into the building with the help of of an old pump. Michael shook his head. The one time he and Sam came out here to talk to Virgil and help him with the boat repo that became so much more, he hadn't come inside. If he'd known what the place looked like, he would have vetoed the idea in a heartbeat.

"Eew, this is disgusting," Fiona said, wrinkling her nose as she entered the place. "It's one room, there's only one bed that looks like a gigantic petri dish... Michael, we can't keep Sam here."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"I figured this was gonna be the case," Jesse said. "That's why I brought cots and some of the more precious comforts of home."

"This place needs a lot of cleanup before we even consider this a place to lay low," Michael said as he stood in the middle of the room with arms crossed.

"We can do it. Come on, Mike, this is our best bet to keep Sam safe. Nobody knows we're out here, and if we cover our tracks out on that road, no one will suspect that anyone's been here in awhile. It's perfect."

"From a tactical standpoint, it's not bad, really," Fiona added. "We have plenty of trees from which we can scout the area. As long as the boat has gas, we've got an easy escape if necessary."

"I'll check on that. Somebody better get Sam out of the SUV before he dies of heat stroke." Jesse left the cabin and headed for the short dock. Virgil's airboat was tied to it. It needed some work too, but with nothing to keep them occupied out in the wilderness, there was plenty of time to get it in shape. Jesse decided to take care of that himself.

He looked up toward the sound of doors slamming and noted that Michael and Fiona pulled Sam out of the back of the vehicle and shielded him as they moved toward the cabin. Sam entered the cabin and the two unloaded equipment and supplies. Jesse went to help them and realized that they really hadn't given Sam a whole lot of room back there. Hopefully he could spend the ride home up front or in the back seat.

Sam and Fiona took charge of cleaning the inside of Virgil's cabin. Michael checked out an ATV that was parked off to the side, but it was a lost cause without access to a lot of parts. Instead, he helped Jesse erase their tracks going into the property and they prepared the boat for an exit strategy. By the time the sun started lowering over the trees and the mosquitos came out in earnest, their work was done. A few burlap sacks tacked over the windows and holes in the roof allowed air in but kept most of the bugs out.

Jesse and Michael came inside and found Fiona setting the table with a set of mismatched plates, glasses and silverware while Sam worked at a propane stove to make dinner. "Hello, boys. You look like you got a little too much sun, Michael." She reached out and touched a finger to his nose and pressed, and a white impression of her finger remained.

"Ow, thanks, Fi."

Michael looked around at the room and noted the changes. The bed was gone, and in its place, the four cots were lined up with two placed close together and the other two flanked them with a few feet of space separating them from the coupled beds. Each one had a pillow, sheets on the mattresses, and light blankets.

"It's not much, but it's much better than the floor," Fiona said when she saw where Michael's eyes roved. "We managed to clean up the whole place, so it's not too stinky now. If we could just get some AC out here..."

"Not a chance."

"And with no fans even, we'll suffer," Fiona griped. "Sam, don't say I never did anything for you."

"I would never accuse you of that, sister. You can count on that!" He finished stirring the contents of the skillet, turned off the flame, and set it on a hot pad in the center of the table. "Okay, dig in everybody!"

"What is it," Michael asked as he picked up the serving spoon.

"It's sort of a chicken curry, but without the curry... and the chicken. I had to use pork." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, that's all that was in the cooler!"

"It's okay. Tomorrow Fi and I will try to hike it out of here and get more supplies. There was a small town around here, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, it's about five miles southwest," Sam answered. "It's big enough to have a small market. Although, I can always try to catch something for our dinner."

"No alligator steaks," Michael said with a guarded expression on his face.

"No, I was thinking more along the fins and scales line. Virgil has some nice rods and reels here."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Sam."

Sam grinned. "Well, it's the least I can do considering you guys are inconvenienced by having to be out here babysitting me."

"Hopefully it won't be long. This isn't bad." Fiona tried a bite of his impromptu dish. "Michael, we should probably contact someone back in Miami tomorrow to find out how things are going."

"If they have a pay phone in town. We'll see."

When everyone had their fill, Sam and Fiona cleaned up the kitchen using light from an oil lamp suspended from the low ceiling.

"You guys done," Jesse asked. "Bring that lamp over here and let's play some cards."

Sam set the lantern on the table. "Nah, I'm beat. 'Night, everybody." He dropped onto his cot fully clothed.

"I'll take first watch," Jesse said.

"Night, Jesse." Michael and Fiona retreated to their cots and lay down. The circle of light from the lamp didn't reach that far, so they were able to snuggle without feeling self-conscious. It didn't take long for Sam to start snoring lightly, and soon Fiona and Michael were also asleep.

Jesse listened to their breathing while he played solitaire by the lamplight. Crickets, tree frogs, and other creatures of the night sang outside in the still air, surrounding them with their natural symphony. An owl hooted off beat. Jesse wasn't used to hearing such things. It was kind of relaxing, actually. Then he heard a twig snap, and the sound of something moving through the brush. He forgot his game, prepared his weapon, and listened for the distinctive sound of a raiding party. He held his breath and his pulse came quick and shallow. Whatever it was decided to move on and left them alone, and he let out a relieved breath. Hopefully the next day would bring good news that it was safe to return to Miami, but Jesse had a feeling they would be there for awhile. Long enough to get used to the night sounds.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The sounds of a flock of herons mixed with the hum of cicadas were Sam's alarm clock. He opened his eyes and looked to his right. Fiona lay sleeping two cots down, but between them, Michael's was empty. Jesse lay on his sleeping soundly. In the developing dawn he saw Michael sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and his handgun resting on the surface. He rose from his bed, knowing he would be unable to sleep any longer under the heavy, sticky air.

"Morning, Mikey," Sam greeted him softly as he moved closer, afraid of waking the others.

Michael replied just as softly. "Morning, Sam. There's coffee on the stove."

"Great, thanks." He poured himself a cup, pulled several chunks of ice out of the cooler and dropped them into his coffee. There were just some days when it was too hot for the beverage, but they didn't have anything cold besides well water, and there was no way Sam was trying that without it being boiled first. Hence, coffee was his best bet. As he sat at the table, he noted that Michael studied a map of the area. "Figuring out exit strategies?"

"Yes. I'm glad Virgil has an airboat besides that old fishing scow out there. It opens up more options."

"So I'm forgiven for bringing us out to a place that has practically zero comfort?"

"It's perfect. No one would suspect that we'd come out here."

"I just thank God for what we've got. I'd rather deal with a little inconvenience versus having to face the villagers with the pitchforks."

Michael smirked. "Very true." He leaned his cheek on his fist. "Fi and I will go into town and see what kind of reports are coming out of Miami. Do you think you need to let your attorney know where you are?"

"Elsa can just let David know, if he asks, that I went underground for awhile. I don't have any bond on me, so it's not like he really needs to know."

Michael sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"For what?"

"For everything. I should have just broken off the pursuit, let them go, and none of this would have happened."

"Yeah, and then the deal would have gone down, and we'd have to try again next month, only it would be harder then because these guys would have been on the lookout for us." Sam shook his head. "No, as much as this is a pain, it's better this way. Except for the kid getting shot. I'd rather just have a do-over so we could keep those guys on the island. Then none of the bad stuff would have happened."

"We could wish for that all day. If it ever came true, next thing I'd wish for is to take back everything I said to Nate and not kick him off the team. Then he wouldn't have been there to get Anson and wind up in the line of fire."

"And we'd still be chasing Anson. You can't win, Mike. Either way, things are screwed up." Sam drained his cup, stood, and stretched. "I'm gonna go out on the pier, see if I can catch anything from there. Wanna join me?"

"I probably should, if only to keep you from getting attacked."

Sam chuckled. "This early in the morning, I think only the mosquitos will get me." He pulled an aerosol can from a shelf. "I'm dousing myself with this crap to lessen my chances." He grabbed a couple of rods from the corner, picked up a tackle box from the floor, and walked out the door with Michael behind him. The front screen slapped shut, signaling to the bugs that it was chow time. Hundreds of them swarmed the two within seconds.

"Sam, hurry up with that spray," Michael pleaded as he smacked another mosquito on his arm.

"Just stand still, Mike, I'll cover ya." Sam walked around Michael and sprayed him from head to toe, then Michael did the same for him. "Okay, I think we're protected. Let's go get some fish."

Michael perched on a home-made wooden gear box on the wide pier. From there he had a good vantage point of the water and the surrounding area. Ahead of them, the murky water stretched out for a quarter mile or so, and beyond it, water lilies and vegetation covered the surface. An island off to the right a mile away was the only land nearby, but they were well covered by trees, making a clear target hard to find.

Sam prepared the lines on two poles and stuck them into brackets at the end of the dock. Michael had never gone fishing. His dad wasn't the fishing type. Then again, he wasn't the dad type, especially when it came to doing things with his kids. Frank Westen only enjoyed drinking, gambling, and yelling and taking swipes at his family.

"Who taught you to fish," Michael asked.

Sam glanced over his shoulder, then returned his attention to the rods. One of them showed some tension, so he picked it up and began to play it. "My uncle. Dad was never around much to teach me much of anything." He cranked the reel a little and let it loose, then cranked it again. "You want to learn? It's really relaxing. Might do you some good."

Michael shrugged. "I'm working right now, Sam. You know what that's like."

"Yeah, and I'm tellin' ya, it's okay. Come on, grab this rod and I'll show you how to work it."

Looking around, Michael saw that they were the only two up and about. He holstered his gun, got off the box, and stepped up beside Sam. He took the rod that had a bite on it and allowed Sam to coach him until the line came in with a fish on it.

"It's not very big," Michael said as he watched the fish flip and flail helplessly on the hook.

"It'll do just fine, Mike. You and I catch a few more of those, and we've got dinner tonight." He grabbed the fish and the line, carefully pulled the hook from the side of its mouth, and dropped it into a bucket that he'd filled with water from the body of water they fished.

"You know, Sam, this is really kind of a cruel process."

"What do you mean?"

"You hook them, and that's gotta really hurt. Then you withdraw the hook and put them in that bucket to swim around and bleed, and slowly die..." His eyes locked on the fish as he spoke and his words drifted off into silence.

Sam understood where this was going. With a gentle hand he took the pole away from Michael. "Maybe you better just stick to watching, huh, Mike?" His pain filled eyes drifted up to Sam's, and Sam put a hand on Michael's arm and spoke. "It's okay. Go sit down, I've got this."

It was easier to watch their surroundings and keep his attention away from the poles and the bucket. In a couple of hours, Sam caught enough fish for them all to have a nice helping. By then, Fiona was awake and came out to join them on the pier.

"Beautiful morning, huh, Fi?" Sam greeted her with a smile.

"Yes. I see you two have been busy." She smiled at him and looked into the bucket.

"Well, I was. I tried to teach Mikey how to fish, but... we hit a snag. Nothing to worry about, though." He glanced at Michael, who stared at him as if he had no idea what he was saying. Then Michael went back to peering through the binoculars at a flock of birds in the distance. "Anyway, I caught enough for tonight. Would you do me a favor and get me a platter?"

"A platter? What for?"

"I have to clean these fish and put them in the cooler when I'm done."

Fiona nodded. "Be right back."

She returned with the platter but didn't stay long. Watching Sam gut and descale fish wasn't exactly her idea of fun. "I'll cook breakfast," she said and quickly made herself scarce.

With the fishing done, there wasn't anything left to occupy the time. The humidity caused their clothes to stick to their bodies, the direct sun would bake anything left out in it for an hour, and the inside of the cabin provided no relief. The four took shelter under a broad palm, taking turns dozing and staring out at the world beyond the pier. A whining sound got their attention, the volume increased, and an airboat appeared on the horizon. It loomed larger until it was almost in line with the pier. The driver shut down the engine and coasted in until its front end rode up the sandy shoreline.

Instantly, everyone was on alert. There were no passengers, and the driver's face was obscured by a wide brimmed hat, until a hand came up and pulled it off and let it fall down her back on top of a long mane of curly dark brown hair.

"You know who she is, Sam," Michael asked as he turned to his friend.

"I have no idea, Mike. I've never seen her before."

She squinted at them, jumped off the driver's seat, and picked up something from inside the boat. "Hey there, folks. You know you're trespassin' on private property?" Her smile was wide, but her eyes were full of distrust when she cocked the shotgun and aimed it toward them.

"We're aware of that. We're just borrowing it for awhile," Michael replied, keeping his voice calm.

As she spoke, the young woman approached them with the gun's aim wavering from one person to another. "Virgil doesn't take kindly to people squattin' on his land. So if you're smart, you'll just get outta here right now."

"Who are you?" Sam asked, and the barrel stopped on him.

"Patsy. Just Patsy. And who do you think you are?"

"My name is Sam. I'm an old friend of Virgil's." Sam stood, his hands held out in surrender.

Patsy set the butt of the gun on her hip, and her mouth formed a huge 'o'. "Sam? Sam Axe? Oh my word, Virgil told me so much about you, I feel like I know you!" Her excitement ceased as quickly as it began. "Now, wait a minute. How do I know you're not tryin' to pull one over on me? I got it!" She leveled the gun at him again. "Let me see the tattoo."

Sam pulled up his sleeve and showed her the design on his upper arm. One eyebrow tipped up as he gave her a cocky smile and said, "I can show you some ID too, if you like."

"That's not necessary." Patsy lowered the rifle and took a couple steps closer. "Virg told me how y'all got those." A smile played on her lips. "You're so crazy, both of you."

"How do you know Virgil," Fiona asked from her position next to Michael.

Patsy's eyes roved down to Fiona's hand and the gun she held, then moved back up to the other woman's eyes. "He borrowed some tools from my daddy to build this place, and then my daddy and I came over to help." Her smile widened at the memory, but it was a bittersweet expression. "He was kinda dealin' with some stuff then, I think. He said this place was good therapy for him to get over the ghosts that haunted him." She uncocked her shotgun and rested it in her arms as she looked around the place. "It's been getting kinda ragged, thought I'd stop by and see if I could fix a few things. Work out some things of my own while I was here." She shook her head vigorously and pasted on a self-conscious grin. "Shoot, y'all don't care about my stuff. Who are your friends, Sam?"

Sam introduced Michael and Fiona, and Jesse when he emerged from the house. She smiled sweetly at him as she shook his hand and held on just a little too long. "You remind me of somebody I know. Y'all don't happen to know 'Zekiel Crabtree, do ya?"

"Nope, sorry." Jesse felt all eyes on him.

"Ah. Well, there's kind of a family resemblance, that's all. Nice family, descended from slaves and Creoles. Like me. You'll find a lot of us around here." She seemed to find it hard to keep her eyes off of Jesse, and it made him uncomfortable. She finally ripped her big brown eyes away, pushed her unruly hair out of her face, and said, "I suppose, I better let ya'll have yer vacation time."

"Maybe you can stick around for a little bit," Sam said as he glanced at the others. "I'm sure you could give us some information about the area that we don't know."

"Yeah, I could do that. Been here practically all my life."

"Alright, then, have a seat. Want something to drink?"

"You got any beer?" Patsy parked herself on a log and rested the shotgun across her knees.

"You don't look old enough to drink," Fiona remarked.

"I'm plenty old." She gave Fiona a cool stare.

"We didn't bring any beer. Sorry." Michael stood. "But Fi and I were going to go into town to get a few more supplies, and we can pick up some then."

Patsy looked around the place, noted the SUV, and the condition of the trail. "How'd you get in here without..." She shook her head. "Never mind." She looked at each one of them and stopped at Michael. "Y'all are tryin' to hide, aren't you? Well, since you're friends of Virgil, I'll do you a favor. Just let me know what you want from the store, and I'll go get it."

"It's okay, we can go..." Michael began, but she waved him to silence.

"I know what's goin' on." She turned to look at Sam. "Just 'cause we're out in the sticks doesn't mean we don't know what's happening in the world. I saw on the news about that kid, and how all those people want the law dogs to throw the book at you."

"You know about that, huh."

"You betcha. And I have half a mind to drive that airboat right up there to Miami and give those people a piece of my mind. Instead, I think I'll just stick around and help you."

"Thanks, Patsy." He gave her a genuine smile.

"Not a problem, Sam." She planted her hands on her knees and stood. "Well, I better get a move on and go to the store, get you what you need."

Fiona stood and smoothed out her capris. "I'll go with you, Patsy. I need to check in with someone."

"Okay. We'll be back later, fellas."

Michael gave Fiona a look, and she just smiled and patted her hip bag. Not only did she have cash, she was armed. "We'll see you later, boys. Have fun!"

"Don't forget more ice, Fi! Gotta keep that beer cold," Sam teased, although at the moment he was more concerned with the fish he cleaned. "And hey, if you think it's safe... can you call Elsa and tell her I'm fine?"

Fiona stopped and turned, and she gave Sam a tender smile. "I'll be sure to tell her, Sam." Then she spun away and hurried to catch up to Patsy. As the younger woman prepared the air boat, Fi twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her head and wrapped a bandana over her head to help keep her hair from blowing everywhere.

"You think it's a good idea letting Fi go off with that strange woman," Jesse asked.

"Fi can handle herself. You know that, Jesse."

"It just seems awfully convenient to me that this girl shows up less than twenty four hours after our arrival, and she's so friendly and helpful. Just too strange." Jesse paused. "One of us should go with her, Mike."

"I vote you go, Jesse. Patsy looks like she kind of likes you," Sam said and winked.

Jesse glared at him, rose from his seat, and ran toward the pier. There was no time to debate, just act. Patsy was starting to reverse the boat, but he called out to her and waved his arms. She saw him, grinned, and slowed the momentum. Then she waved for him to climb aboard. He settled in next to Fi, and the three were off.

"Man, what I wouldn't give to be a passenger on that airboat." Sam chuckled. "I feel sorry for Fi, having to endure the tension. Jesse's just gotta get used to it. Patsy's got eyes for him."

"You know Jesse. He's got a job to do."

"Sometimes, Mike, you remind me that you two are no fun." He took a swig of his coffee that was now cool and disgusting. He made a face and tossed the liquid into a patch of tall grass. "Looking forward to that beer getting here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Patsy drove the boat to a small backwoods town tucked away in the Everglades. It consisted of a gas station, a general store, and a bait shack with boat rentals. She parked the airboat in an empty slip near the store, and she led the way to dry land.

"They've got just about everything you need, but if they don't, well, civilization's a long ways away." She opened the door and it jingled to announce their arrival.

"Hey, Patsy!"

"Hey, Benny!" She turned to Fiona and waved her hand to the left. "The payphone is along the side of the store, so if you wanna go make your calls, Jesse and I can pick up what you need."

"Thank you, Patsy. I'll do that." She walked through the store and went out the front door, then followed the visual directions Patsy gave her. Poor Jesse. I hope he can survive the attention. Fiona laughed. He really didn't know what to make of the woman. He was working too hard, plain and simple; she hoped that maybe Patsy could provide a little distraction when he wasn't on guard duty.

Fiona found the pay phone, dug out some change, and put a few coins into it. She dialed the first number, and Madeline picked up. "Hello?"  
"Madeline, it's me, Fiona."

"Fiona! Where are you, honey?"

"I can't tell you, just that we're all okay. I don't know if you heard any more about the visitors Sam had at the hotel yesterday."

"It was all over the news yet, and they just keep talking about people being so upset that Michael and Sam weren't charged. Oh, and the police think that Sam was kidnapped, because they can't find him."

"Really. Are they looking hard?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll buy you some time."

"We can only hope. Look, I'll try to check in again in a few days to let you know how we're doing and get any news from you."

"So Michael is... he's okay?"

"He's fine, Madeline. He misses you."

"I miss him too."

Fiona said, "Well, I have to go. I'll talk to you soon, hopefully in a couple of days."

"Tell Michael I love him."

"I will." Fiona smiled. "I have to go, Madeline. Goodbye."

She called Pearce to let her know that they were in hiding, but she wouldn't tell her where, which irritated the agent. Fiona reasoned, "I don't want to risk that someone bugged your line or they're tracing this phone. Just know that we're okay."

"We're trying to figure out what we can do on this end to catch whoever tried to kill Sam." She paused.. "Elsa said she had to step up security at the hotel. Sam is getting hate mail delivered there, and last night someone called in a bomb scare."

"What is wrong with these people?"

"I don't know, but the whole hotel was evacuated, and afterwards they had a mass checkout." Pearce let out a breath. "Whoever is doing this, not only are they trying to hurt Sam, they're impeding with Elsa's business. They're really digging themselves deep here."

"Have you been in communication with Elsa?"

"I practically have a hot line to her. Why?"

"Could you please tell her that Sam loves her? Maybe that'll help cheer her up."

Fiona could hear the smile in Pearce's voice as she replied. "It just might. I'll be sure to pass along the message. When can you check in again?"  
"A couple of days, maybe."

"No maybe. Make it so. If I don't hear from you, I'll be putting out a manhunt all over south Florida."

"That could take awhile." An airboat started up nearby, and Fiona shielded the receiver to mute the sound. She shouted so Pearce could hear her. "I've got to go. I'll talk to you in a couple days!"

Fiona hung up the phone and went inside. She found Patsy at the counter talking with the shop keeper. Before her, she amassed everything that Fiona had on her list and a case of beer. Sam's favorite, too. At least somebody wouldn't mind too much that they were in the middle of nowhere sweating their butts off and swatting biting insects, while they kept an eye out for alligators in the water and killers coming from God knows where.

"Y'all ready to go," Patsy asked. "Jesse already took care of all this."

"Yes, I'm done. Let's get back before Michael and Sam start to wonder about us."

When the three returned to Virgil's, they found Michael sitting under the palm tree where they assembled the day before. He leafed through a magazine, but when he heard the airboat, he looked up. Sam lay on a hammock nearby reading while one foot dragged on the sand and set the hammock in motion now and then.

"You two look awfully settled in," Fiona remarked as she walked toward the house with two bags. Jesse and Patsy brought two more and the case of beer.

Sam looked over the top of his book, saw the case and grinned. "Patsy, you can just park that baby right here." He pointed to the sand.

"Hold your horses, buddy, I'll be right back." She followed Fiona and Jesse inside, and as she set the case on the table, Patsy looked around and up at the ceiling. "Yeah, looks like I got some fixin' up to do. I'll work on that roof today and get it so it's good as new. Hey, Jesse, you wanna help?" She eyed him with a hopeful look.

"Oh sure, why not."

Fiona hid a smile by turning away. She set her bags on the counter and said, "Why don't you just set all that down and I'll put everything away? The sooner you get started, the sooner we have protection in case it rains."

Jesse set his load on the table, let out a long breath, and turned to leave.

"Patsy?"

"Yes, Fiona?"

Fiona grinned. "Go easy on him. I don't think he's had a... relationship... for awhile."

Patsy mirrored her expression. "I'll be real nice to him. I promise." She grabbed three beers and took them outside, and she gave one each to Jesse and Sam before starting to work.

Jesse and Patsy made a lot of noise stripping all the old cedar shingles from the roof. Before they were done, she got in the airboat, said she would be back soon, and took off. When she returned, the front of the boat was filled with plywood and long strips of interlocking tin.

"My daddy told Virgil he shoulda put a tin roof on this place when he built it, but he didn't listen. So now he's gettin' a tin roof."

With all the noise the two made, Michael worried that someone out on the road would hear and possibly come to investigate. He and Fiona took turns checking the perimeter. Some brush served as good cover to watch a road that for the most part remained unused. He heard the sounds of pounding halt, and when it remained quiet, Michael slipped back into the woods and returned to the cabin.

"All done for the day," he asked Jesse.

"We're all done, period. Michael, that girl, when she gets her mind set to do something, it's insane trying to keep up with her!" As evidence, sweat poured down his shaved head and soaked a ring around the collar of his t-shirt.

Michael saw a glint of admiration in Jesse's eyes when he spoke. "So we won't be hearing any more of that tomorrow?"

"Nope. We're all done. Sure looks better than those shakes, doesn't it?" Patsy looked up at the silver colored roof. The late afternoon sun glinted off of it and struck her in the eyes, and she turned away from the glare. "You'll probably find it's a little cooler in the cabin now. The roof picks up the heat and it'll hang up there in the rafters. Tomorrow, I'll come back and get all that brush cleared up from around the base. Then you'll get some circulation under there that'll help even more to keep ya cool."

"Hopefully we won't be out here too much longer," Michael said. "No offense, but we kind of like Miami."

Patsy shrugged and shoved her hands into her back pockets. "To each his own. I like it out here, nice and peaceful. Well... see y'all tomorrow, Michael, Jesse." She winked at Jesse, whirled, and bounded back to the airboat.

Jesse sighed deeply and Michael eyed him. "Relax, Jesse."

"She's nice, but..." He shook his head and walked toward the cabin.

Inside the cabin, Sam fried the fish while Fiona set the table. She turned when she heard the screen door close. "I heard the airboat. Did Patsy leave? We were going to invite her for dinner."

Michael replied as he put an arm around her waist. "Yeah, Fi. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

"Hm." She looked at Jesse and said, "Well, that was fun going into town, wasn't it?"

Sam glanced at Jesse, saw the slightly embarrassed look on his face, and a sly smile crossed his face. "Sounds like I missed something good."

"Not really, Sam. Patsy's nice, friendly, a real capable girl, but... my mind is on work right now, not starting up a relationship with someone I'll probably never see again."

"Uh huh," Sam said with a chuckle.

"You and Michael are very similar that way," Fiona remarked and threw some salt into a pot of boiling water. "Your mind is always on the job and there's no room to have a little fun."

"Hey now, there's no need to insult the guy," Sam teased, even though he knew it was true. "It's not like you're gonna marry her. Just let loose a little, Jesse."

"I don't want to start something that might end abruptly." He turned and headed for the door. "I'll go out and check the perimeter."

The screen door slammed, and Sam's eyebrows raised as he glanced at Fiona. "Gee, was it something we said?"

Fiona shrugged in response.

Jesse stayed out until Fiona had to go in search of him. He combed the woods around the property but didn't see anything. He found remnants of an old camp, but there was no evidence of it being used recently. All the while he searched, part of his mind focused on Patsy. She was a nice girl. She was intelligent, had a great sense of humor, and was industrious. He was surprised that she hadn't been snatched up by some backwoods bumpkin, but apparently, that was the problem.

_"It sure is nice to have you folks around here," she said to him as she pulled on a stuck shingle. "You're like a breath of fresh air, Jesse. Most guys around here, if they can't talk about the weather or gator hunting, they're lost. Totally lost."_

_ "Oh? What do you like to talk about?" _

_ "Lost of stuff. I have internet access at my place, so I do a lot of online learnin'. Ain't got the paper, but I bet I have at least a Bachelor's in Natural Resources and Conservation." She smiled. "I help the game wardens and the DNR guys around here, enough to get a little paycheck. I'll never get rich, but I can survive just fine. Don't suppose there's much call for that kind of knowledge in the big city."_

_ "You'd be surprised." _

_ "Really? Hm, might have to check into that. I mean, if I had a reason to move to the big city, that is."_

He still remembered the smile she gave him. Only an idiot could have missed the implication. If only they could get this cleared up in another day or so, he could be gone before she got too attached to him. Or he got attached to her. It could happen if he let it, but with all the controversy that swirled around them lately, the last thing he wanted to do was put an innocent person in the middle.

"Jesse! There you are!"

He heard Fiona's voice and turned on her. Then he put the rifle down. "Fi, not a good idea to sneak up on me like that."

"Maybe not, but it got your mind off of her, didn't it." She grinned, closed the distance between them, and whispered. "She's really sweet, I think you should give her a chance."

"After this is over, and if she's still interested. Maybe then."

"Well, that's a sign of hope!" She patted his arm. "Supper's ready."

Jesse followed Fiona back to the cabin, his eyes scanning the woods. For some reason he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with Patsy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Patsy walked into her small home similar in style to Virgil's, except she had the creature comforts of indoor plumbing, gas, electric, and a land line phone, which was ringing as she closed the door. She picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Patty Lincoln, you don't know me. My name is Detective Michelle Paxson of the Miami PD."

"I think y'all got the wrong person. My name's Patsy Linn."

"Now it is. Can we please stop playing games? I'm calling for a very important reason."

She heard the tension in Paxson's voice but wasn't about to cut her any slack. The woman's reputation preceded her, and if it was true, Patsy didn't want the detective on her back. "I don't work for the PD anymore, Detective. Why are you calling me?"

"You know Virgil Watkins. You know where his place is. I want to know if Michael Westen and his friends are there."

Patsy played it cool, even though her heart hammered against her chest. "Why would you think I'd know that?"

"I have my sources." Patsy heard her breathe over the phone. "Look, I know that you're trying to cover for them. That's admirable, because right now, if they're hidden out there at Virgil's, that's the best place for them to be."

"Why?"

Paxson quickly explained to Patsy what was happening. "We have some leads on who's sending the letters and called in the bomb threat. We've coordinated efforts with the FBI, and they think we can wrap this up in a couple days or so, as long as these people continue to pull this stuff."

"So, what do you need me for? If I know where this Westen guy is, what do you want me to do?"

Paxson chuckled. "As much as it galls me, when I'd really like to see Westen and Axe get some heat for what they did, the decision has been made and I have to abide by it. So if someone is threatening their lives, it's my job to protect them, and I'm asking if you'll do this for me so I can concentrate my efforts here in Miami."

"I have a job working for the DNR..."

"You'll be well compensated for your time, I assure you." Suddenly, her tone changed. "Patsy, please. Do it for them, not for me."

"Nobody gets hurt."

"Not if you're watching them."

Patsy let out a deep sigh. "I'm sure you know what happened. Would you like to see charges brought against me? It was an accident."

"Sometimes accidents happen."

"I'm sure Westen and Axe would tell you the same thing."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah. I'll keep watch over them. You want me to stay out there?"

"That would probably be for the best, and try to limit the trips into town, at least with Fiona Glenanne and Jesse Porter."

A chill ran down Patsy's spine. Paxson's intel was very good, and it worried her. What was the detective up to? Did she really want her to protect these people or set them up for a mass murder? "One more thing."

"What's that?"

Patsy took a breath. "Tell me who your source is. I need to be wary of him or her when I do go to town."

"His name is Kenny. He says you call him 'Loser'. And girl, you're not off the mark there, let me tell you! But his information is good. Anyway, watch out for him, because I'm not entirely sure he's reporting only to me."

"I will. Thanks." Patsy hung up the phone and dropped into the kitchen chair. This whole thing had gone from zero to crazy in a matter of minutes. These were good people. It angered her that ignorant citizens targeted them for a mistake; knowing how they felt made all the memories come rushing back. The emotions, the pointed fingers and shouts for justice, only it wasn't the kind the people wanted. Her superior officers backed her, but in the end it was all too much and she walked away, changed her name, and fell off the grid. Patsy thought by disappearing into the Everglades, she could erase everything that went wrong. Now it came back and bit her like a rabid dog. And like the infected saliva from that dog, the past spread out into her present and would probably destroy her future if she wasn't careful.

If she helped these people, maybe she could atone for the past. If she helped Paxson, and it turned out she had ulterior motives that might get them killed, she wasn't so sure she could live with herself. She was so confused, Patsy didn't know what was right.

"Lord Almighty, have mercy on my soul if I make the wrong choice," she whispered against her folded hands.

As promised, Patsy arrived the next morning. What they didn't expect was that she came with cargo. She approached the cabin before unloading it and perched on the edge of the rocker beside the chair where Michael sat.

"Michael, there's somethin' I wanna ask you."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Would it be alright if I stayed with y'all while you're here?"

He turned to her with a puzzled expression. "Why would you want to do that?"

"There are some people that I need to get away from for awhile. It's a long story, but if I stay here, I can help ya'll stay safe, too."

"I see you came prepared in case I said yes." He inclined his head toward the airboat.

Patsy smiled sheepishly. "Well, it made more sense than me goin' back to get everything." She stood and wiped her hands on her cargo pants. "Tell ya what, if you let me stay here, I'll get that propane fueled fridge of Virgil's up and running, and we won't have to run into town for ice every day for the coolers. Really, the less we go into town, the safer it'll be for y'all."

A spark in Michael's eyes told her he was getting suspicious. "I don't know if we have enough fuel for that and the stove."

"I betcha you do. I can take a look right now." She trotted down the stairs and around to the back where the propane tank stood. Michael followed her, and by the time he reached her side, she was grinning. "This tank is almost completely full. You're good for a month, I guarantee it. Hopefully by then your problem will be solved."

"I'd like to see it over by the end of the week," Michael answered her.

Patsy smiled. Just a little patience, and Michael would have his wish if everything went well. "So, we have a deal?" She stuck out her hand.

"Deal." He shook her hand half-heartedly. He really didn't want to get anyone else involved, especially someone that was still pretty much a stranger. He couldn't shake the sense that there was something underneath this woman's friendliness, but he was also smart enough to know that if she was an enemy, keeping her close and learning about her was the best strategy for the moment.

"Great! I'll go unload my stuff and then get to work on the fridge. After that, I'll clean up that brush around the foundation and it'll be a lot nicer sleepin' tonight." She hurried toward the airboat. "Hey, Patsy, need some help?" Sam came down the porch steps and fell into line with her.

"Thanks, Sam, I'd appreciate it!" The two walked to the pier and each took enough gear to empty the boat in one trip.

"What's up, Mike," Jesse asked as he emerged from the woods.

"How are things on the road?"

"I watched it for a couple hours. Not a single car came through. It's pretty isolated out here." He watched Sam and Patsy take a cot and a couple of duffel bags inside. "What's all this?"

"She's staying with us."

"What?" Jesse's eyes nearly bugged as he stared at his friend.

Michael folded his arms and watched her through the screen as she interacted with Sam. "She gave me some excuse that she needed to get away for awhile."

"That's what Disney World is for."

"Something is going on with her. Maybe it's a good thing we're keeping her close, because if she's been hired by someone to pinpoint our location, we can prevent her from reporting us."

"Or maybe she's here to help protect us. Maybe Elsa hired her."

"I don't know." He turned his head and looked at Jesse intently. "I know you've been on the fence about her, but I want you to spend time with Patsy. Get to know her and maybe we can figure out what she's really up to."

"Oh boy." He shook his head and looked down at the ground a few moments, weighing his answer. "Fine, I'll do it."

Michael grinned and chucked him on the upper arm. "I knew I could count on you."

"Although, Sam seems to get along better with her. They can be beer drinking buddies or something."

"Jesse..."

"Okay, okay! I'll go help her with her stuff and get her settled in."

"Thanks." Michael smiled as he watched Jesse go inside. He settled on the porch and heard their voices, listening for anything Patsy said that might clue him in to why she was there. He didn't hear anything other than a story about her living in the area all her life. It sounded good, but was it true? He started the chair rocking, working out his anxiety over this woman. Fiona would soon be back from her rotation checking out the perimeter, and then he could take over. It would help get his mind off whether he'd made the right decision.

Ever since the shootout, he found himself second-guessing. Not all his decisions, but some wouldn't leave him alone. In the middle of the night he woke up in a sweat, worrying if bringing Sam out to this place was the right move. They had no backup. No one to call for help. The cabin had no landline; the cell phones were their only line of communication to the outside world. What was happening with their case? Were there really that many people who opposed the DA's ruling? Or was it just a small group of whack jobs who took advantage of the situation to create trouble?

If Patsy was as genuine as she seemed to be, her appearance couldn't have been more providential. She was an extra man for their team. She appeared to know how to handle a weapon, and for some reason was very interested in keeping them from harm. Maybe she saw the news and felt sorry for them. Hopefully Jesse could find out what motivated her, and soon, because Michael didn't like having someone on his team if he wasn't sure of their allegiance.

Sam helped Patsy fix the refrigerator, and the two worked with Jesse to clear the overgrown weeds and kudzu vines that crawled around the porch and foundation. The entire cabin was built on a grid of stilts eighteen inches off the ground. Once the debris was clear, Patsy crawled underneath to check on the beams, and when she emerged she was covered in damp earth.

"Great look on you," Jesse teased.

"It helps keep me youthful," she teased back.

Jesse restrained himself from saying anything else that might make her think he showed an interest in her. The silence became uncomfortable, and Patsy turned toward the outdoor pump to get rid of the dirt. He could have kicked himself for saying something so stupid. Now she thought... he wasn't sure what she thought. Until he could find out her real motives for being at their hideout, he didn't want to get anywhere near emotions. If she was working for the wrong side, it would only make things more difficult in the end.

"I hear a beer calling me," Sam said and trotted up the steps. "Come on, Jesse, let's see how that fridge is working."

Fiona sat at the table inside the cabin, arranging some wildflowers in a clear jar. Jesse sat next to her while Sam opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. "Want one, Fi?"

"No thanks, I'm already set." She picked up the half empty at her left elbow and took a sip.

"Nice flowers," Jesse remarked. "Where'd you find them?"

"Along the road. When I was on my last perimeter sweep, I walked west about a half mile or so. Just curious if we had any neighbors, because every once in awhile when a car comes through, it's usually moving from west to east."

"And I've seen the little traffic that there is go from east to west," Jesse said.

"Sounds like someone with a job coming and going," Sam said. "Did you find anything, Fi?"

"If someone is living down that road, they're at least a half mile or so away. Other than scrub brush and trees, and these beautiful flowers, I found nothing."

Sam set a beer in front of Jesse and twisted the top on his. "I'm kind of surprised that Mike is letting Patsy stay here. Think he knows something we don't?"

"He would tell us if he did." Fiona spoke with confidence. She knew Michael wouldn't keep anything important from them.

"He wants me to hang out with her, get to know her." Jesse spoke softly. His eyes focused on the screen door just as it opened and Patsy came inside.

She grinned at them. "See, I told ya. It's already a bit cooler in here, isn't it? With that nice breeze today, it'll be almost as good as air conditioning. I promise." Patsy looked at the three faces staring up at her. "What? Were y'all talkin' about something you didn't want me to know about?"

"No, not at all! Patsy, why don't you have a seat," Fiona said with a smile. She got up and took her bouquet to the coffee table and set it on the surface. "Sam, get her a beer."

"I'm on it." He was close enough to the refrigerator to open the door, pull out a cold one, and close the door without getting up. "There you go, Patsy." He leaned across the table and set it before her.

"Thanks, Sam." She twisted the top and settled into her chair. It was odd that the three sat close together on one side, and she was alone on the opposite end. She felt like she was in the middle of a job interview. "So, what do ya wanna know about me?"

"The truth would be a good start," Fiona said as she leaned forward and rested her forearms on the surface.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"I was born in Homestead, and my family's lived out here for generations. My Mama and Daddy, they live near town nowadays, and I live in the house where I grew up." She raised her hands and let them flop to the table. "There's not much else to tell. I went to school for awhile in Miami, but I didn't really fit in there, so I came back. I've been takin' classes online, learnin' a lotta stuff that way, and I work for the state Everglades Management team. Nothin' exciting, but it keeps me fed." She forced a smile. "Sorry, my life is pretty boring."

Sam asked, "Why the interest in us?"

"You're city folk. You gotta be interesting," she replied with a grin.

"You told Mike that you were trying to get away from someone for awhile." Jesse said. "Who, and why?"

"Crap," Patsy muttered. "This is why I never became a detective."

Sam turned an ear to her. "A detective?"

Patsy looked away and studied the old curtains that whispered in the breeze. She sighed deeply, then turned back to them. "Okay, truth, 'cause I'm no good at lying. Never have been. I could never go undercover, I'd botch it up first day." She shook her head and looked down at her folded hands, then returned her gaze to the three people who sat before her with puzzled expressions. "I used to work for the Miami PD. I was a beat cop."

"And you're here because..."

"I've been keeping an eye on Virgil's place for him since he went to the Bahamas. I just happened to come by yesterday, and here you all were. I knew who you were immediately. I've seen you, Sam, on the news. I figured you guys were trying to lay low until things died down in the city, so I pretended that I didn't know anything and was just this nice, helpful neighbor."

"You mean, you're not a nice, helpful neighbor," Jesse asked.

Patsy laughed. "Well, yeah, I am."

"But no one is after you?" Fiona's eyebrows arched.

"No, nobody's after me." She leaned back in her chair and concentrated on her beer bottle, debating how much she should tell. Better to let it all out. "Last night, I got a phone call from a friend of yours, Detective Paxson. She got wind of you being here, and she asked me to keep an eye on you, to help keep you safe." Her eyes landed on Sam. "She told me who her informant was. His name is Kenny, he runs the gas station, and apparently he saw Fiona and Jesse with me at the store and reported to her."

"Why would she even have informants out here?" Jesse shook his head, unable to believe this story.

"She busted Kenny a few years back, some big Everglades drug sting. Now he's a snitch for her. But he's an idiot. I think sampling his own product was a bad idea. Anyway, the point is, you don't want to mess with Kenny. He'll sell what he knows to the highest bidder, 'cause that's just the kind of sweetheart he is." She took a long drag on her beer. "That's another reason I'm here, to keep Kenny away if he comes snooping around. He and I, how shall we say it, don't play well together. I gave him a backside full of shotgun pellets once for trying to use my boat without permission."

"Why'd you quit the force?" Sam got up for another beer, noted that Fiona was empty. "Fi?" He lifted up a bottle.

"Sure, I'll have one." She took it from him. As she removed the top, she said, "I'm curious about that, too. Why'd you quit?"

"For a reason that I think you can all sympathize with. Especially you and Michael, Sam. I made a mistake, a very costly one."

Sam noted how the shadows of the past crept into her demeanor. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I should tell you." She sighed, bowed her head, then slowly raised it. "I was driving the cruiser when we were called to a robbery in progress. My partner got out and started chasing the guy. He had a wheelman a couple blocks away, and he got there, hopped in, and the two took off. I was torn between waiting for my partner and risk losing them, or chasing them and leaving my partner behind."

"What did you do?" Fiona was riveted to her.

"I called in the fleeing suspects plate and their location, then drove back to pick up my partner. Then we went high speed in the direction I last saw them go. We went maybe five blocks, and then I saw the car turn down a side street. We were going way too fast for a residential area, but sometimes you have to do what you have to in order to catch someone." Patsy shielded her eyes and rubbed them before continuing. "I approached an intersection with lights and sirens. The light had just changed, and a car started into the right of way just as I flew through. It was a little subcompact, and my big Crown Vic just tore it to pieces." Her throat closed up, and she swallowed a few times before she could speak again.

Fiona reached across the table and laid a hand on hers, but Patsy pulled away.

Sweeping the tears from her eyes, Patsy whispered, "Two lives gone, just like that, a mother and an infant in the back seat. I made the wrong decision to pursue that fast, and it cost them their lives."

No one could say a word. All of them understood how heartbreaking such a scenario could be. Footsteps came up the porch stairs and the screen creaked, announcing Michael's arrival. He looked at the faces of the four people at the table.

"What's going on?"

"Patsy was telling us about why she's here," Sam replied. "Well, why she's hiding out from civilization, anyway."

"You better pull up a seat, Mike." Jesse patted the chair back next to him. When Michael was seated and his attention was on her, Jesse encouraged her. "It's okay, Patsy. Tell him what you told us. Or we can give him the short version if you don't want to rehash it."

"No, it's okay." She quickly told Michael everything, and this time she made it through without breaking down. "After the accident, there were people calling for my badge. Others wanted to see me go to jail for life, or be executed." She shook her head slowly as the memories flooded back into her brain. "I was a wreck. They sent me home for awhile to think about my future, and I quit. I couldn't handle the pressure placed on me by the press and the civilians... I never went back. It's been five years now."

"That's tragic, isn't it, Michael?" Fiona asked as she looked pointedly at him.

"It is. I'm sorry, and I know what that's like to think you're doing the right thing at the time, but the consequences bear judgment on your decisions."

"The people were so vengeful. It took me a long time before I could even forgive myself." Patsy sniffled. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if I have."

"Did you have some crazy person sending you death threats," Sam asked.

"No, it never got that bad, thank God! There were people who wanted me prosecuted. But I followed the procedures set in place at the time, so legally, there was nothing anyone could do." She choked and took a swig of beer. "You know what really cut me the most?" She pressed the cool glass against her forehead and eyed Sam. "When the woman's husband, who was left behind with a six year old son, came to see me after I was released from the hospital. It kind of creeped me out that anybody knew where I lived, but... that's not the point. He came to me, and he said that he forgave me. Just like that, he forgave me." Her eyes flooded with tears again and she looked away.

"Forgiveness would be nice," Michael muttered.

"It made me feel worse. I didn't think I deserved it." She accepted the tissue box that Fiona handed her, grabbed several, and blew her nose. "The next day, I put in my request for leave and took off and came here. Virgil happened to be around when I showed up." She smiled, the expression full of love. "He was great. I could have gone home, but for some reason I couldn't burden my folks with this. Virgil was my best buddy at that time. I miss him. That's why I come back here now and then and try to keep up the place. And because you're friends of his, and you're in the same boat as I was, I want to help."

"I get it now," Michael said, his distrust melting away. "It might be a good idea to go through a briefing with you so we know who lives around here and who's suspicious looking. "I want to know everything so we can plan our defense strategy."

"No problem." Patsy smiled. "I've got all day."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Going to town today, Patsy?"

Patsy looked up from her breakfast. "I wasn't planning on it, Fiona. We've got plenty of supplies."

"I was hoping that you would be, because I promised that I would call Agent Pearce and keep her up to date on our status."

Patsy didn't have to ask who Agent Pearce was. The day before, once she'd established with them that she was trustworthy, Michael told her about his involvement with the CIA, although she sensed that he left out some parts. She understood the secrecy of government agencies, so she didn't feel the least bit slighted that he didn't think she needed to know everything.

She glanced at Michael. "I would think you'd want to call her, considering she's your boss."

"She's not really my boss, she just leads a lot of ops that I'm on," he explained.

"Ah, I see." She looked around at the others, weighing the risk. "No, it's too dangerous for Fiona to be seen in town again. I'll go to town and pick up a couple things, and if you give me her number, I'll call her."

She knew as the others glanced around the table that this was the ultimate test of her loyalty. Would she do as she promised, or turn them in?

Fi announced. "If no one calls, Pearce will have a manhunt out for us."

"Well then, I better call her. No sense in wasting tax dollars when you're not lost." Patsy smiled warmly. She pulled a small pad of paper out of a pocket on her cargo pants. A pen was attached with a rubber band. "Write down that number, and I'll take care of everything."

"Go ahead, Fi." Michael urged her.

Fiona wrote down the number, and Patsy stuck the pad back into her pocket. "You know, if I didn't understand what you're going through, I'd be pretty offended by your lack of trust in me." She pushed her chair back and stood. "But it's okay. I'll see ya'll later, and if I'm not back in a half hour, worry."

Patsy parked the airboat, tied it up, and approached the store. She glanced across the street and saw Loser standing near a pump chewing on something, most likely tobacco. He was such a redneck, he could put the stereotypes to shame. Her eyes met his, and his seemed to grow colder as he stared her down. But she wouldn't let him sway her. He was easy and gave up after less than a minute. Patsy smiled, turned, and entered the store.

"Patsy!"

"Hey, Benny. You got any hooks? You know, like those things for curtains. And I need a shower curtain."

"Workin' on a new project?" Benny grinned at her.

"Yeah. Gotta keep busy somehow, right?"

"I hear you've been over at Virgil's place the past few days."

Without missing a beat, Patsy carried a couple bags of snacks to the counter, set them down, and replied, "Yeah, I'm tryin' to fix it up real nice. I heard he may be comin' back soon, so I wanted it to be move-in ready."

"I see." Somehow, he didn't quite believe it, but Benny was smart enough to keep some things to himself. Like how he heard there were strangers squatting out there. A couple of locals were fishing on the water and saw people moving around in the trees. Then again, those boys were known to have a few nips now and then. This latest development just gave their story a little credence.

"So, the hooks, Benny?"

"Oh, yeah. Back here." He led the way to the small hardware section. After scanning the wall display, he leaned over and picked up a packet. "I think this is what you want."

"Perfect! Thanks." She paid for her things and took them to the airboat, then returned to the store. "Forgot, I was gonna pick up some soda!" She grinned, grabbed a six pack of bottles, and paid cash. With one hand she sifted out the quarters, tucked them into her palm, and put the rest in her pocket. She exited the store and rounded the corner, watching to make sure no one seemed too curious. If anyone asked, she'd say her cell phone was broken.

"Hello."

"Is this Agent Danielle Pearce of the CIA? My name is Patsy Linn, I'm a friend of Michael Westen." By the hesitation, Patsy knew the woman was analyzing the validity of her claim. "It wasn't safe for Fiona to come to town to call you. I have reason to believe that some people around here know where they are, and it's only a matter of time before someone comes for them."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend. A friend who's been in the same sort of mess that Michael and Sam are in right now. Only I didn't have psychopaths trying to kill me." She let out a sigh and looked around. "Agent Pearce, do you know a man named Virgil Watkins?"

"Michael mentioned him a time or two. He's a friend of Sam's."

"Do you know where his place is?"

"I have no clue. Are you going to tell me?"

Patsy bit her bottom lip. She'd already talked too long if someone had a tracer on the phone. "I have to go. Ask Michael's mom if she knows!"

"Ms. Linn, please don't hang up yet!"

"Make it quick. Do you have a message for Michael?" She listened to Pearce's report and stored it in her memory. Then Patsy quickly said goodbye, hung up the phone, calmed her breath and composed herself before heading to the boat.

"Hey, Patsy."

She looked up from untying the tether, saw the source of the greeting, and frowned. "What do you want, Loser?"

The man smiled and showed off a missing tooth. Most people would consider it a serious loss, but he apparently found it a useful means for disposing of his chewed up tobacco. He spit out a small wad and it hit the water with a soft plop. "I hear you been hangin' out at Virgil's old place."

"Really. Who told you that?"

"Don't make a difference, really. Just wonderin' what ya got goin' on out there."

"Nothing illegal." Patsy glared at him, then returned to her task.

"Oh, you're havin' a party," Loser said as he leaned over and snagged one of the beer bottles from the case sitting in the bottom of the boat. "Mind if I join ya?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Patsy swiped the bottle out of his grip before he could open it. She flipped it neck side down, wrapped her fingers around it, and prepared herself to use it if necessary. "Now blow outta here or I'll give ya a reason to."

Loser put up his hands. "Woah, I don't need that kinda trouble. You have yourself a nice day, okay?" He turned away from her and hurried off the pier. A few seconds later, he threw open his truck door, got in, and pealed out of the parking lot.

When she returned, Fiona stood on the dock. She sensed her unease. "What happened, Patsy?"

She let the boat drift onto the beach as she answered. "Loser... this guy, Kenny, I call him Loser... he knows I've been out here with you guys. Normally I wouldn't worry about that, but he was askin' too many questions." She looked into Fiona's eyes. "When Loser asks questions, it usually means something's up, and it's not good."

Fiona thought about what Patsy said. What if he was paid by someone to ask questions? That meant that someone had been monitoring Patsy's movements. Maybe Patsy herself was up to something and shouldn't have been trusted. But when she spied the look on the younger woman's face, she saw the concern and fear for them written there. Fiona felt ashamed for even thinking that the woman would betray them, but her time in prison had taught her that someone might have a good sob story, but it might be just that, a story. She had no way to confirm it, other than Patsy's word. This turn of events, no matter whether or not what she told them about herself was true, did not make Fiona feel good.

If she'd been inexperienced, Fiona would have been scared. Instead, every cell in her body came to life. They already had a plan in place for a full-scale protection detail. If only they had more than just themselves!

Sam and Michael looked up from where they sat, and just one look at the women's faces told them that something was wrong. Leaving their reading material on their chairs, the two hurried to the pier.

"What's going on, Patsy," Michael asked as he took one of the bags from her.

"Someone has a bounty on your heads, and Pearce's team is working to uncover who and where they are. They're close, and she said the FBI is hunting them down."

"You think they know we're here?" Sam grabbed the case of beer.

"I know they do," Patsy answered, her eyes wide. "Kenny was asking me way too many questions. Then he took off to his truck and just about crashed into a tree trying to get out of the parking lot. He's up to somethin'."

"Okay. Let's get ready. Don't know how much time we have." Michael took the bag of groceries into the cabin, abandoned it on the kitchen table, and pulled a case from under the cots. It held a small cache of weapons, which were prepped and distributed to everyone. "Jesse, Fi, you two take the perimeter and split up. Patsy, you stay here with me and Sam."

"Michael, I should go with Jesse. I'm good at getting around these woods without making a sound."

Michael looked up at her, then his eyes turned toward Jesse. "Jesse?"

"It's okay, Mike. I trust Patsy. She's on our side."

Fiona added. "If she wanted to, she could have given us away and not come back."

"Fi's got a point, Mike." Sam agreed.

Michael nodded. "Okay, Patsy, you and Jesse take to the woods. Whistle if you see anything that looks like a raiding party."

"You got it, Michael!" Patsy checked the rifle that Michael gave her, held out her hand for extra ammunition that she stuffed into her back pockets, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she and Jesse turned to leave.

"Sam, stay inside. Fi and I will cover the water and beach area."

As he picked up his own weapon, Sam said, "I'm not gonna sit by and let you all risk your life for me. Don't forget, there's a price on your head too, Mike." He pulled the bolt back. "Let's get set up."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Fiona poked her head up from the back of an old boat on a trailer. The railing made a perfect perch for her rifle. She covered her head with a scarf to mask her location, and she looked across the yard and saw that Sam took cover in an oak tree. With the olive green shirt and pants, he was nearly invisible. At first, she couldn't find Michael. Then a bush moved, and she saw his boot, but nothing else. Good work. If anyone comes into this yard and tries an attack, they won't know what him them until it's too late.

Sam carefully moved his right arm to glance at his watch without disturbing any branches. His back was starting to feel uncomfortable against the rough bark. He'd been in the same position for over an hour now, and nothing happened. From his vantage point he saw Fi's backside as she lay on her stomach in the boat. The bushes where Mike took cover moved slightly, and he saw the top of his head. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of how many times he'd done this before and been in much more awkward positions and endured.

A whistle that sounded like a birdsong carried through the woods. It was the signal. Someone was coming. Sam checked his ammunition one more time and tensed his back against the tree branch. Bring it on, we're ready.

An SUV pulled into the clearing and stopped where their vehicle was parked when they first arrived. It was now hidden in the large shed where the boat had been mothballed. Five guys got out and looked around. Through the leaves Sam saw their weapons and was less than impressed. If the men attacked, Sam, Michael, and Fiona could take them all down in seconds.

"We're too late, they're gone."

"No, they left everything open. There are two airboats here. That chick is with them somewhere. Find them, and try not to kill anybody. We want Axe and the other guy alive. There's no reward if they're dead. So move!"

The leader stood near the SUV and opened up his cell phone while the other four split up and headed to the woods and the water. Two of them were getting a little too close for comfort as they approached Michael's hiding place.

"I see something!" Two shots fired in quick succession toward Michael's position.

Michael returned fire and one guy went down. The other backed off and searched frantically for some place to hide, while Michael strafed the ground near his feet. He chose the wrong place to take refuge. The man climbed up the side of the boat and tumbled inside.

Fiona was ready with a good right hook and a few well placed kicks. When he was unconscious, she tied him up with some rope she found in the bottom of the boat.

"Charlie! Vince!" The leader looked around but couldn't find either of them. He spoke into his cell phone. "We're gonna need reinforcements out here. Yes, now, you idiot!"

While his attention was diverted by his phone call, Sam took a couple of shots at the leader, purposefully missing him, but making him nervous. The man held up his rifle in one hand to try to return the fire, but he wasn't even close.

"Drop it," Michael ordered as he fired from his location, and Fiona fired at the SUV. She pierced the doors with a pattern of bullets. Michael hit the radiator and fluid leaked out onto the ground. The leader tried to make himself a smaller target and head for the woods where his other men disappeared. Sam took another shot and clipped the man's arm, but he needed to reload, so he missed the opportunity to stop him. Fiona ran after him.

Sam slung the rifle across his shoulders and climbed down, dropping from the last branch, and met Michael underneath. "I'm a little worried, Mike. We haven't heard anything from either Patsy or Jesse."

"That's because I got one," Jesse said as he pushed his prisoner into the clearing. "On your knees, buddy." The man's hands were tied, so he carefully did as he was ordered without falling over.

"Okay, counting the leader, that's four guys. Fi's going after him, so that leaves one more." Michael looked around, but he didn't see the last man.

Sam asked Jesse. "Where's Patsy?"

"Last I saw she went that way," Jesse pointed to the northwest.

"Okay, let's go." Michael led the way down the rutted tracks that passed for a road. Sam and Jesse followed and watched the woods. They weren't on the path long before they heard gunfire. "That's our cue!"

Michael and Jesse ducked into the woods toward the staccato of guns firing rapidly. Sam felt something whiz past his head and he turned toward its source. A lone man stood in the middle of the lane, but when Sam saw him, he ran back to the camp. "Mike, get back here!" Sam went after the shooter. Patsy exploded out of the woods just ahead of him and they both went in pursuit.

"Patsy, stay back," Sam yelled at her. "I've got him!"

She must not have heard, because she continued running toward the water. Her quarry leaped onto the pier and untied Virgil's airboat. He tried to start it, but it wouldn't catch, so he jumped off and untied the other. By then, Patsy was there. With a built up roar of frustration, she dropped her gun and at the same time barreled into him. They became a tangled mass of legs and arms as she attempted to take him, and he tried to get her off.

Sam cocked his gun an ordered. "Enough! Freeze, both of you!"

Surprisingly, the shooter stopped struggling. Patsy sneered, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until he rolled over to his stomach. "Hey, you have any zip ties or something?"

"Mike came prepared," Sam replied and handed her a heavy duty tie.

Patsy smiled when she heard the satisfying sound of plastic friction as it tightened around his wrists.

"Careful, he might need some circulation there," Sam said half-jokingly.

She gave him a stare over her shoulder. "I know that. I have used these before." She unstraddled her prisoner and said, "You wanna do something constructive? Help me pick him up."

Sam wore an amused grin as he uncocked his gun and he moved forward to set the man on his feet. Together, they took him to the SUV and shoved him inside.

Sam did a mental count and came up with four guys. "You know, there's still one more out there. He was heading your way, until the firefight started."

The sound of an airboat got their attention, and he and Patsy turned to see the last man stealing Patsy's boat. During the scuffle, Virgil's floated out into the current, slowly drifting away.

"Hey!" She took off running toward the dock.

"Crap. Patsy!"

Patsy pulled her Glock on the driver. Sam could see her lips moving, yelling at him to stop. He ignored her, and Patsy ran to the end of the dock, used the edge as a springboard, and leaped onto the boat.

"Patsy! No!" Sam ran to the end of the pier but it was too late. The airboat was away, the attacker was trying to drive, and Patsy hung onto the driver's seat and bashed him with the butt of her gun. But he wouldn't stop. He turned abruptly, possibly hoping to throw her off, but it was ineffective. He kicked up the speed and took off toward the east.

"Where's Patsy," Fiona asked as she and Michael joined Sam on the dock. Jesse came up behind them, his breathing heavy.

"That crazy woman just took off with the leader," Sam exclaimed. "The other airboat is out there."

"Does that scow's engine work," Fiona asked no one in particular. "If we can get out there to the airboat, then we can use that."

"No, the airboat is busted. I was hoping to jury rig a part in the off-chance we'd need it," Jesse said as he brought up a hand and indicated the useless boat. "But I wasn't able to finish. So, yeah, it's dead in the water, literally." He dropped his hand to his side.

"Well then, we've gotta get that scow in the water now," Fiona said. She strapped her rifle across her back and strode up to the boat trailer. "If we work together, we can get it down to the water. It's not that big of a boat."

"It's going to take far too long." Michael pulled out his phone and dialed. "Pearce, it's Michael. We're at Virgil's... Good. We're under attack, and we need assistance. Patsy is on an airboat in the 'glades heading east with one of the five men who attacked us. The rest we've neutralized and they're tied up in an SUV on the property." He listened for a few moments. "Alright. Thank you."

"Well?" Fiona asked with hands on hips.

"She's getting a helicopter, but it could be at least an hour before it gets here. So in the meantime, let's try to get this boat in the water."

The four were able to steer the trailer to the water and get it in far enough to detach the craft and have it float. Sam got the motor running while Fiona and Michael rounded up their prisoners and zip tied them to the inside of their SUV. Michael took the keys and the distributor cap. "Hope it won't be too warm in here for you fellas. We'll come back as soon as we can." He tapped the hood and hurried to the pier to join his friends.

"Mike, loading this boat up with four is asking a lot," Sam said. "Two maybe..."

"Okay, I'll go with you, Sam. Fi, Jesse, you two stay here with our friends. If they try to escape, you know what to do."

"Be careful, Michael." She kissed his cheek and took up a position where she could watch the boat and the men in the SUV at the same time.

"You sure this is a good idea? The two of you are the ones they want."

"It doesn't matter. Patsy's in trouble, and she needs our help." Michael stared down Jesse and got into the boat. Sam shoved them away from the pier, turned in a tight circle, and steered them out to the water. Michael turned and said, "You might want to try getting a hold of Paxson. Maybe she can get us help faster!"

"Will do, Mike. Take care!"

"I've got her number, I think." Fiona checked her address book on her phone. "No, I don't. Do you?"  
"Let me see." He quickly checked. "No, but I have the station number. I'll see if I can get her that way." Jesse walked up the bank and toward the cabin. Fiona stayed on the pier and moved to the end of it, watching until Michael, Sam, and the boat were just a blip on the horizon. Her head turned toward the west and she noticed that the sun was beginning to lower in the sky. They had maybe three hours of light left. Who knew how far that airboat would go, and where the driver would take it. Hopefully Patsy was able to wrest control from him, and any minute now she would come puttering in to the dock.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sam drove the boat as fast as it would go, carefully navigating around patches of water grasses and vines. Michael used his binoculars to try to get a fix on the airboat, but it was as if it had just vanished off the face of the earth. The motor sputtered, and Sam slowed their craft to a crawl.

"Mike, if we keep up like this we'll run out of gas and we won't make it back to Virgil's. They were on an airboat. They could easily have gone in a direction we can't take because of the bogs."

"You're giving up on her?"

"No, I'm just saying that we're getting really low on gas, and sunlight, and we do not want to be floating around the Everglades after dark. We're not going to be of any use to anyone if we become an alligator entree!"

Michael knew that Sam was right. He'd been so intent on looking for the airboat, he wasn't watching for the way home. "Sam, do you know how to get back to Virgil's?"

"Yeah, don't worry. I've been keeping tabs. See, that's why I was the Navy guy. I'm good on water."

"Well, we're going to be on the water for just a little longer." He faced southward, the binoculars trained on something in the distance. "I see the airboat, and it's not moving. Sam..."

"I'm punching it, and let's hope Patsy's okay and that thing has enough gas to get us to Virgil's." Sam turned the boat toward where Michael pointed. He gave it full throttle, and the propeller caught on vegetation beneath the surface, but the engine kept fighting to get them to their destination. When he saw the boat, he peeked over Michael's shoulder in search of life on it. They were almost upon it, and he eased off the gas to allow them to drift close enough to grab the side and stop their forward momentum.

Patsy lay on the deck unmoving. The man was nowhere to be seen. Michael got out of the scow and climbed aboard the airboat while Sam tied their transportation off to keep it from drifting away.

"Is she alive, Mike?"

"Yes."

"Did she get shot or knocked out? What happened?" Sam got on board and knelt opposite Michael.

"I don't know. She doesn't appear to be injured."

"Come on, Pats, wake up." Sam gently slapped her cheek. Not getting a response, he checked the back of her head. "No lumps, so he must not have knocked her out."

Sam cradled her head in his hands and continued searching for an injury, careful not to move her neck too much. She moaned softly, then winced as she slowly came back to consciousness. Her eyes blinked, and she looked up at him. "Sam? You found me." Her eyes roved and she saw Michael. "Are we at Virgil's place? How'd I get there?"

"No we're on the water. What happened?" Michael's face hovered over her. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I got the guy off the seat, and we fought." Her brow creased. "He threw my gun in the water. Sam, I'm really mad about that. I liked that gun!"

"Don't worry, you can replace it. What happened after that," Sam asked. She made a move to sit, but he held her down. "Uh uh, I don't want you getting up until I know how you wound up in this position."

"We went overboard." She licked her lips. "Yeah, first he tried to turn me into a shredded mess by shoving me toward the blades, but I got him off balance and he went overboard. He took me along."

Michael asked, "So how'd we find the boat dead in the water?"

"Probably ran out of gas," Sam replied, hoping that he was wrong.

"We were in the water and the boat went a little ways, but it slowed down and stopped. I suppose because nobody was holding the throttle, it just idled. Anyway, we fought, and we both got caught in the swamp grasses. So then it became a fight to get free, and I don't know what happened, but he got so stuck..." She blinked rapidly. "Sam, I tried to help him, but he kept dragging me down. I finally had to... to punch him in the face so he would let me go." Tears rolled down the sides of her face. "By the time I got myself out of that patch I was dead tired and didn't think I could swim to the boat. Somehow, I did. I dragged myself up here and then it was like I couldn't move."

"Where was it that you struggled," Michael asked. He stood on the deck and searched in a circle, but he didn't see anything. He got up on the raised driver's seat and tried again with the binoculars. "Uh, yeah, I see him, Sam. He's about fifty yards off that way." He pointed. "He's floating face down."

"Great," he muttered, then looked down at Patsy and softened his expression. "Come on, Pats, let's get you up. We'll see if this old thing has any gas in it yet, and we'll take you back to dry land."

"Think we should try to pick him up," Patsy asked.

Michael shook his head. "We're not wasting the fuel to go that short distance just to scoop up a dead guy. There's nothing we can do, and that little bit of gas might be the difference between making it home or becoming fodder for the swamp creatures."

"You're right."

Michael checked on the gas levels on both craft. "There's some, but not a lot. I wonder if we can siphon off what's left on the scow, and then we'll just ditch it."

"Yeah, it's worth a shot." Sam helped Patsy to sit in one of the passenger seats. "Will you be okay here?"

She nodded.

"Okay, but that seat belt on, just in case. I don't want you falling over and hurting yourself or winding up back in the water."

"Thank you, Sam." She found the other half of the belt and snapped it into place. She watched as the two men found tubing in the tool box on board and rigged up a siphon. They didn't get much, but maybe it would be enough.

Michael untied the scow and pushed it away from the boat. "Ready, Sam."

"Okay." He climbed up into the driver's seat and Michael took the seat next to Patsy. "Are you both good back there?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Alrighty, then. Let's get out of here." He hit the ignition, but nothing happened. He tried again with the same results. "That tank had fuel in it, plus what we added! Why isn't it working?"

They heard a splash and turned to look back where the attacker's body had been floating moments earlier. Only a series of ripples remained.

"Oh crap," Sam whispered. "Come on, baby. I am not gonna sit here and wait to be a gator happy meal! No way!" Just when he was about to go check on the engine, it sputtered, then caught. Sam threw up a fist in the air in celebration. "Alright, let's get back to Virgil's!"

"Sam, wait!"

He turned and looked at Patsy over his shoulder. "What?" He had to yell for her to hear him.

"My place is a lot closer! Just head north northwest, cut across this bog, and it's right along the shoreline!"

"Okay, sounds like a plan!" He set the boat in motion and it skimmed across the grasses, splashed swamp water up at them, and transported them quickly. The shoreline was a good mile or two away, and Sam silently hoped that they had enough fuel to get there. He glanced back at Patsy, then Michael. With their eyes closed, it looked like they were both praying. Sam glanced up at the dusky sky. Count me in on that one, God!

"Sam!"

In the fading light, he didn't dare turn around. "What?"

"When you get close to land, there's an old tree in the water. It's submerged, and if you run over it, we could capsize."

"Well, if we make it that far, let me know about where it is, and I'll slow down."

"I will."

Slowly, the land grew closer and closer. In another half hour or so, it would be dark. Already, Sam could see the glowing eyes lurking among patches of reeds. He imagined them grinning in anticipation of the MREs sliding past on the boat. No, they won't eat us right away. They'll drag us underwater first, store us under some dead wood or something, just long enough to rot a little and make us more palatable. Oh yeah, that's a real nice thought! He pressed the throttle, but it was full open. He heard the engine stutter and pulled back. No sense in wasting gas.

"Are we getting close," Michael asked her.

"Yeah, see that clearing? That's my place!" She got out of her seat and pointed over Sam's shoulder. The boat bounced and jostled her, but she hung onto his seat back.

"You better belt yourself in," Sam urged her. They were close enough that, if it weren't for the gators, they could swim it if necessary.

"Sam, watch it! This is where the tree is, to the right."

"You want me to go to the right, or it's on the right?"

"It's on the... left, Sam! Go left!"

He turned the boat sharply, and the bottom scraped on something. One second they were evading, and the next, the boat became airborne and twisted to the left. The three found themselves momentarily upside down in the air, and then the front end came down, diving into the water.

Sam and Michael were strapped in, so when their bodies made impact with the water, they stayed in place, but the force pushed all the oxygen out of their lungs. Anyone else would have panicked and drowned; but Michael and Sam, in training for Rangers and SEALs respectively, drilled on what to do in a situation like this. There was a window of time where they could still survive without air. The hard part was not blacking out from the impact. Michael unlatched his seat belt in the dark, murky water. He felt around for the seat ahead of him and found that Sam had already unlatched his.

They swam for the surface, broke through, and expanded their lungs with air. "Patsy. Where's Patsy," Sam asked as his head swiveled around in an attempt to find her while he treaded water.

"Sam," Michael said, then dove beneath the surface.

"Mike! What are you doing?" He felt something bump against his leg. "I sure hope that wasn't a gator." Then he felt something against his left side. He reached down with one hand, found a shirt, and pulled. Michael broke the surface the same time that Patsy's body came up.

Michael sucked in a good sized breath.

"Was that you, Mike, brushing against me?"

"It was me and Patsy." He looked around to get his bearings.

"Good. We have to get out of this water ASAP. It's feeding time."

"You don't have to tell me. There, that's the way we need to go." He looked in the direction of the land and began to move forward.

With one hand each clinging to Patsy's shirt, Michael and Sam slowly made their way to the shore. Sam was aware that she wasn't breathing. Every second counted. About one hundred yards from the shore, they found a sand bar.

"Stop, Mike." Sam stood on the bar and said, "Support her. I'll breathe. Just a little bit to get her to shore.

Michael stood, but then he lurched forward and bumped into Patsy's floating body. "Sam, something just ran into me."

"Okay, forget that. Let's swim!" The two quickened their pace until they reached a point where it was shallow enough to stand. Michael picked up Patsy and threw her over his shoulder. The small house was about seventy feet from the shore, and once they got out of the water, they ran for it.

Without communication passing between them, Michael lay Patsy on the grass and began breathing into her. Sam tripped up the stairs in the dark, guided by a porch light with a sensor on it that turned on the light when he passed near it. He didn't have any tools for breaking in, so Sam quickly felt over the door for a spare key, down the sides of the frame, and under a loose piece of siding. Nothing. With a shrug, he wrapped his fist in his shirt tail and shoved it through one of the panes on the door. Problem solved.

"We're in, Mikey!"

Sam looked beyond Michael, and just out of the spill of the light he saw the glowing eyes. "Come on, Mike!" He ran down the steps, picked up Patsy's arm and leg, and Michael took the opposite side. They reached the steps just as the fourteen foot alligator charged. Sam got the door open and they disappeared inside with her. After setting her on the floor, Sam locked the door and Michael resumed rescue breathing.

Sam checked for a pulse and he was relieved to find it. She just needed to start breathing on her own and hopefully she wasn't without oxygen for too long. She coughed, and Michael stopped. Before she was completely conscious, she coughed and rolled to her side.

"Hey, Patsy, welcome back," Sam said when she opened her eyes a little and looked up at him. A lamp next to the couch was the only light on in the room.

"Am I home," she asked with a gravelly voice.

He smiled. "Yeah, we made it. Sorry about the boat. I, uh, kinda tipped it over."

She shook her head. "It was my fault. I should have warned you earlier. When I'm driving, I know exactly where that tree is."

"I can imagine."

Patsy closed her eyes. "I'm beat."  
"You and us both, Pats."

While Sam conversed with Patsy and made sure she was okay, Michael surveyed the small cabin. He found one bed, the kitchen and living area all in one space like at Virgil's. Only here she had electricity. And a phone. He picked up the receiver, heard a dial tone, and thanked God for small favors.

"Hello?"

"Fi, it's me."

"Michael! Where are you? Pearce is here, and we've been wondering whether there should be a helicopter search of the swamp or what."

"Don't bother. We're at Patsy's house a few miles east of Virgil's. We found her, and she's going to be okay." He glanced over at Sam, who gave him a thumb's up. "Yeah, she'll be fine. We're fine, too."

"What about our man," Fiona asked.

"He's, uh, he's not so fine. By now some gator probably took him home for dinner."

"Nice."

"Don't worry about us, Fi. We'll just camp out here tonight and in the morning you can find this place. I think it's off the road we took to get to Virgil's, but I don't know."

"Alright. We'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Michael."

"I'll probably take first shift. 'Night, Fi." He hung up the phone and returned to the living area. He stood over Sam and Patsy, still dripping swamp water.

"You okay to take watch, Mike?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about me."

Sam looked at him with doubt, but he also knew his friend would be stubborn and not give in. He found some towels, a basin and soap. Patsy was out again, so they stripped her down, cleaned her of the remnants of dirty water and whatever else was in that swamp. Sam found a nightgown that they dressed her in and put her to bed. They both had a turn in the shower and took advantage of her washer and dryer to clean their clothes.

After nearly a week without access to a real shower, it felt heavenly to duck under the warm spray. But Sam kept it short so that Michael would have a chance at some hot water. He came out wearing nothing but a towel and took the shotgun Michael held. When Michael finished in the shower, Sam would park himself on the couch and go to sleep. It was hard to keep his eyes open after that warm relaxing stream of water hit his body. He was fast asleep when Michael came out and guided him to lay on the couch while he himself stayed up to guard them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The sun came up over the swamp, painting it gold as it cut through a thick fog. After the night before, the Everglades looked so innocuous. Sam nursed his coffee while he sat with his feet up on the porch rail. Peaceful mornings like this were nonexistent in Miami, so he savored every moment. The calls of herons, other birds he couldn't identify, and tree frogs blended together with the soft whisper of the mist as it rolled over the water. The surface was calm with no predators in sight, neither gator nor human. He peered through the veil and in the distance made out the airboat's underside sticking out of the water. Hopefully they could get some help in righting it, and maybe he could help Patsy repair it.

He heard the inside door open and Sam turned to see her standing behind the screen.

"Morning, Patsy." He spoke softly so he wouldn't awaken Michael. He went to bed on the couch an hour earlier, exhausted. "How are you?"

She opened the screen and came out to sit beside him in another chair. The humidity and cool morning brought a slight chill to the air, so she hugged a light sweater around herself as she sat. "I'm doing fine. Thanks, Sam, for you and Michael finding me. I really thought I was going to die out there."

"Are you kidding? We'd never let that happen." He smiled at her. "You should get dressed if you're cold."

"I'm okay, really. I just love the feel of the morning air on my skin. Which reminds me, how did I get out of my clothes into this?" Patsy held out her hands and looked down at her knee length cotton nightgown.

He felt the heat on his cheeks as he replied, "We just did what needed to be done. Got you out of those nasty clothes, cleaned you up, and put you to bed. Nothing else happened."

"I didn't think anything did. You two are honorable men, and you went above and beyond last night. Thank you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then sat and parked her crossed ankles up on the rail next to his, and she leaned back in the chair. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know. I think we'll get back to Virgil's once Mike wakes up, and we'll see how everybody's doing out there. I guess Pearce showed up last night and her team took the other invaders away."

"That's great, but what if there are more? You guys could be fighting them off for who knows how long."

"I don't know, Pats. I just wish we could knock some sense into the person or persons who sent them. Trying to kill us isn't going to change what happened."

Patsy let out a long breath. "I know what you mean. When I accidentally killed that woman and her baby, there were some days I got up and wished I could rewind that day. Or somehow make up for what I did. Then I realized that I could take my own life, but it still wouldn't make a difference." She swallowed and blinked as the memory of the despair she felt came back. "That's when it hurts the most, knowing that your punishment is to live every day with the memory."

"You can't do that to yourself," Sam declared softly. He reached over and ran a tender hand over her back and squeezed her shoulder. "It'll only make you crazy."

"I isolated myself out here. Isn't that more than a little crazy?"

"I..." The sound of a car door slamming cut him off. "Hang on." He moved to the end of the porch and peered around the side of the house. He couldn't see anything, but he heard voices. "I'm gonna check out the front. Stay here." He checked his gun. After drying and cleaning it the night before, he hoped the ammunition was still good.

Sam quietly moved down the steps and flattened himself against the house as he quickly moved toward the side that faced the road. As he neared the corner, he saw a black sedan parked in the drive. Someone was on the front porch knocking on the door. With his gun at the ready, Sam rolled off the siding and turned out to face them, whoever they were.

"Freeze."

The figures instinctively put up their hands, their eyes wide in fear. "P-please, don't shoot us! We're just lost, and we were hoping someone could help us."

After everything they'd been through, Sam wasn't about to put his gun down and trust that they were telling the truth. "Who are you people?"

"Hey, it's that guy," the man mumbled. "That guy from the TV."

The woman's eyes grew bigger. "The one who shot that little boy?"

I didn't shoot that kid! He wanted to say it, but then he would have given himself away. It might have been exactly what they wanted. "I think maybe you two should just get in your car and go back the way you came."

"Yeah, we better leave, before he shoots us, honey." The couple moved off the porch and hurried to the car, the man shielding the woman until they reached her door and she got in.

At the driver's door, the man turned and asked, "Are you that guy?"

"Just go, before you get yourself into trouble."

"It is him! I'm sure of it!"

It took a great effort for Sam to keep quiet. If people thought he shot Tyler directly, what were the news stations saying? Did someone have influence to spin the story so it looked as if he'd done it? After the car disappeared down the road back toward Miami, Sam rounded the house and found Patsy standing at the end of the porch.

"Sam, I heard every word. What are they talking about?"

"I don't know, but I'd sure like to know what the press is telling people about me now."

Patsy led the way inside and turned on the television. She kept it low to avoid waking Michael, handed Sam the remote, and said, "I'm going to get dressed. You channel surf. Not that there are many channels out here, but maybe you'll see something."

"Thanks." The first station he flipped to had a report, and he listened intently.

_"The Everglades turned into a war zone yesterday when five gunmen attacked residents at a remote cabin. Four suspects were apprehended, and the fifth was presumed to have drowned in the swamp. Police say that they were a team dispatched to kill Sam Axe and the government agent who were responsible for Tyler Stanfield's shooting earlier this month. Investigation into that shooting has wrapped up with no charges against either man; however, the parents are still pursuing the option of a civil lawsuit."_

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up and saw Patsy move around him and sit in the matching chair. He changed the channel and found a screen full of angry people carrying signs. A reporter stood in front of them interviewing a woman._ "I'm standing with Alyssa Stanfield, aunt of Tyler Stanfield. Miss Stanfield, why are you here in Tallahassee today?"_

_ "I'm seeking justice for Tyler. We're here to support the passage of Tyler's Law, outlawing all car chases and gunfire in residential areas. The police and government need to stop these barbaric practices. How many more families have to be hurt? How many more innocent children will be shot and killed just to apprehend a criminal?"_

"They make it sound like the kid is dead." Sam perched on the edge of his seat and cradled his head in his hands. The whole thing had evolved from an accidental shooting to a call for blood, and he had no idea how it happened.

As if she'd read his mind, Patsy said, "You can use my phone. Call someone you know and ask them. As far as I know, it's a secure line."

"Thanks." Running his hands through his hair, Sam stood and approached the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. He punched in a number and waited.

"Paxson."

"Yeah, hi, it's Sam. Sam Axe."

"Axe. Where the hell are you," Paxson asked. "I got a call yesterday about that group out in the 'glades trying to hunt you all down, and now you and Westen have gone missing."

"We're safe. But why do you care where I am? So you can come arrest me for killing that kid?"

"What are you talking about? Tyler's not dead."

Sam glanced at Patsy. "He's not? The reports on the news today make it sound like he is."

"He's at home recovering, and the doctors say he'll be just fine. Other than a scar, he'll be good as new. That kid is a living miracle."

He let out a relieved breath. "So why are you concerned with where I am?"

"I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday. If you can tell me anything about these men..."

"Never saw them before yesterday, and I have no idea who they were. Misguided vigilantes? Hit men? Who knows?"

"We believe that they were hired to kill you, and we're trying to figure out who did it. The FBI found the person sending you hate mail and phoning in the bomb threat. It was an older cousin of Tyler's. The kid's barely out of high school, and now he's going to spend a little quality time in jail."

"Do the Stanfields have money to hire a hit squad?"

"Not the immediate family, but then again, who knows what they're doing with the funds they've been raking in from their web site. Don't worry, Axe, we'll get to the bottom of this."

"Thanks for putting aside your bias to work this case."

"It doesn't matter what I think; I'm just doing my job. Well, I have to go. Keep in touch, and I'll talk to you later."

Sam hung up the phone and found both Patsy and Michael staring at him. "What?"

Patsy reached out for the coffee pot. "Who were you talking to for so long?"

"Detective Paxson. She wanted to know if we knew who those guys were. She said Tyler's at home recovering, so what people were implying, that he was dead, was wrong. They're just using him for their agenda. Pretty sick, if you ask me." He set his cup on the counter, and Patsy filled it. "Thanks." He exhaled loudly. "Why are they blowing this thing up? It was just an accident!" He picked up his cup and went outside to sit on the back porch.

Michael stopped Patsy from following him. "Just leave him alone for a minute."

"I feel so bad for him, Michael. He doesn't seem to be dealing with this as well as you." She glanced at him and studied his expression. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. Maybe because the spotlight has been focused on him and pretty much left me alone. It's not fair, but because of what I do, I've been given some shelter from the fallout. Sam is a civilian now. He doesn't get the same protection."

"That's pretty crappy," Patsy said, her eyes narrowing with anger. "After all he's done for this country, helping you and the agency, this is the thanks he gets." She pulled out of the light hold he had on her arm and slammed the screen door behind her as she exited the house and went to sit in the same chair she occupied earlier next to Sam.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Michael should have gone back to sleep, but now that he was awake and they had this latest wrinkle in their case, he couldn't lay down. He went to the screen and asked Patsy, "Mind if I use your phone?"

"Go right ahead." She kept her eyes on the fog that was nearly dissipated.

He noted that she kept a hand on Sam's shoulder, and his head was down, eyes staring into his cup as if they'd been talking about something before he interrupted. It stung a little that Sam didn't come to him to talk about this, but then, Patsy knew how it felt to have the public rallying for your head. Hopefully she could help him. As a spy, he'd had people wanting him dead for so long, he'd gotten used to it.

"Pearce."

"Dani, it's Michael. Sam and I are at Patsy's place yet. How did things go yesterday over there at Virgil's?"

"All our suspects are safely locked up and the threat appears to be over. Are you ready to go back to Miami? Fiona, Jesse and I have things pretty much secure here and packed up, and we're ready to pick up you and Sam. Oh, and I want Patsy to come along."

"We don't have much to do to get ready."

"Good. We'll be there in about twenty minutes or so. Paxson is eager to talk to you three as well. Just so you know."

Michael grimaced. "Yeah, Sam already talked to her this morning, so maybe we're done with her."

"Maybe. Well, we'll see you in a little while."

By the time Pearce drove into the driveway with the SUV behind her, Patsy had a small suitcase ready. "Agent Pearce, I hope that someone in your agency comes out here and rescues my airboat."

"What do you mean," she asked.

"I'll show you." Patsy led the group to the lawn and pointed at the bottom of the boat that still poked up through the water. "It'll take a little tinkering to get it back to working order, but I can do that. I just don't have the equipment necessary to right it and tow it back here."

Pearce gazed at it and shook her head. "What happened out here last night?" The six wound up on the porch for an impromptu debrief. Pearce took notes as she sat in her chair and shook her head in bemusement. "Michael, if I didn't see the evidence, sometimes I'd think you were all making stuff like this up." To Patsy, she said, "I'll have a restoration crew out here this afternoon to take care of your airboat."

"So I can stay here? I don't need to go with you?"

"No. I think I have enough information. Now, Detective Paxson might want to talk to you, but that's up to her. She can make her own arrangements."

"Thanks. I've got some work to do to prepare for fixing my boat." Patsy stood and looked at all her new friends. "We weren't together for too long, but I'm gonna miss you guys. Maybe we can do this again, only without the drama attached to it?"

"How about you come to Miami next time," Michael said as he gave her a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. Good-bye, Michael! Thank you for coming out to save me." She hugged him and Fiona. "Fi, thanks for being really fun to hang out with. I enjoyed it."

"Me too. If you come to Miami, we can do a girls' day out. It'll be fun!"

"I'd like that." Patsy smiled. She gave Jesse a hug and a good-bye kiss on the cheek, and saved Sam for last. She held him close and spoke softly in his ear. "Don't let what people say bother you. You're a good, decent man, Sam, and I know you'd never willingly hurt an innocent person. That's all that matters."

"Thanks, Patsy." He squeezed her and broke the embrace. "You'll have to come and stay at Elsa's hotel when you're in town. It's a great place and right across from the beach!"

"I'll look into it." He gave the airboat one last look, and she poked him in the chest. "Don't even think about it. I'm not gonna ask you to help me fix it."

"Oh brother, you know I didn't flip it on purpose! It was an accident, which, I might add, wouldn't have happened if you'd been more diligent in telling me where that tree was. Saying, 'Go left' at the last second doesn't cut it, sister."

Patsy grinned at him. "Seriously, Sam, I think you just need to go home. There's someone waiting for you."

"You're right. But I mean it, if you need anything, just give me a call." He pulled out his wallet. The contents were still a bit soggy, but the business card that he gave her was intact.

She read it, then looked up at him. "Chuck Finley?"

"Ah, that's just my alias. But the number's good." He grinned.

Patsy laughed. "You'll have to tell me about that one sometime." She watched her friends get into the SUV and back out of the drive. When the vehicle stopped on the road and moved forward out of her sight, she stopped waving. Suddenly, she felt extremely lonely, and for the first time since she moved out to the Everglades, the isolation seemed stifling.

Fixing the airboat wasn't as difficult as Patsy thought it would be. In a couple of days it was back to cruising shape, so she took it for a ride to town since she needed a few things anyway. She tied up at the dock and went into the store.

"Hey, Patsy, I heard you had some excitement out there in the 'glades the other day," Benny said.

"Oh yeah." She really didn't feel like talking about it, because then she'd miss her friends all over again. It was bad enough when Paxson called to grill her on the day's activities.

"I had a couple people come in asking where Virgil's place was."  
Patsy did her best to not look surprised. "Did they specifically ask for Virgil's place?"

"Nah, they just wanted to know where the strangers were holed up. I think they were reporters or something."

"Well, they wasted their time. They're gone."

"I know. I told them that, but they wanted to see it anyway."

Patsy picked up her bag and her change. "Benny, next time someone asks, just keep quiet. There's nobody at Virgil's place right now, and you know how he is about people on his property."

"Alright, Patsy. Y'all have a nice day!"

When she left the store, she decided to swing by Virgil's just to check on things. She was glad she decided to go armed with her shotgun and a 9mm. It wasn't her beloved Glock, but it would do. She slowly cruised up to Virgil's pier and gave the place a good look. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Still, she decided to get out and check, because for some reason, she felt that something wasn't right.

Patsy kept her shotgun at the ready as she walked from the pier to the cabin. Fiona, Jesse, and Agent Pearce did a fine job of putting everything away and preparing the place for being closed up for awhile. Even the hurricane shutters were locked. She stepped onto the porch and avoided the creaky board. At that angle, she noticed that the door was open a crack. She knew it didn't fit well against the frame, but this was unusual. Patsy raised her right foot and suddenly kicked the door, and she found no resistance. A second later, a flash and fire escaped out the door and windows, blowing off the shutters and spewing glass everywhere. The blast threw Patsy away from the door, sparing her life. But she lay on the ground, unconscious.

Feet came running and stopped within a yard of her. "It's not him."

"It's that woman who helped them, I think."

"They must have left and gone back to Miami."

"Let's go before a game warden comes around. Come on."

Some time later, Patsy came to when she felt an intense heat. She must have fallen asleep on the beach. The sand was hot, and the sun was cooking her. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Virgil's cabin burning out of control just a few feet away. Hot cinders landed on her and burned holes in her clothes. With a gasp, she sat up and swatted one out, then scrambled to her feet and backpedaled. Her shotgun was still beside her, so she grabbed it before getting out of the perimeter of the burning building. Her 9mm was still tucked behind her back.

I can't believe it. Who would do something like this? She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Yes, I need help! Virgil's cabin is on fire!" She gave the dispatcher the address, stepped back some more, and waited on the pier until the volunteer firefighters arrived. By then nothing was salvageable. The hoses poured enough water on the fire to keep it from spreading to the boat house, but the cabin was a total loss.

"Are you okay, ma'am," one of the volunteers asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"How'd this happen?"

She gave him a report and he wrote everything down. "You might want to go get yourself looked at, Miss."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks." With one last look at the destruction, her eyes flooded with tears. Virgil probably wouldn't be back any time soon anyway, but it was always comforting to have his place to take care of. Now it was decimated, and the cabin, which was the heart of the place, utterly demolished.

Patsy got on the airboat and hurried home. It saddened her to continue looking at the burnt cabin. She arrived at her home and tied up the boat, and as she neared her own place, a sudden thought came to her. What if my house is booby trapped too? She did a quick check and everything seemed to be okay, but when she looked through the back door window before unlocking it, she saw something boxy on the floor. Unable to identify it, she turned around and ran for her car. In her haste, she never thought about whether the car might be rigged with explosives. She just started it up, put it in reverse, and raced out to the road. Then she shifted into drive and stepped on the gas. She had no idea where her friends were in Miami, but she would find them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Patsy kept driving until she was forced off the road by a nearly empty gas tank. As she waited to pay for her fuel, she glanced at a map of Miami. She still had no idea where to go once she got there. She remembered Sam mentioning a place called Carlito's where they often met, so she decided to see if she could locate it. With one call to directory assistance for the address, she found Carlito's on the map and drove to it.

She parked in a space across the street, waited for traffic to clear, and crossed, her eyes on the open air cantina. She spied a man sitting at a table with a mojito and wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and despite the different attire, she knew it was Sam. His head was bowed as he read something in a file folder, but he looked up to take a sip from his drink and she waved to get his attention. His face lit up, he dropped the folder, and stood to meet her.

"Pats! What're you doing here?" He was about to hug her, but he looked down at her clothes and noticed the small holes in the fabric. "What happened to you?"

Patsy managed to hold it together quite well as she answered, even though inside she still felt shaky. "Someone booby trapped Virgil's place. I went to check on it, and they must have had a trip wire connected to the door. It's all gone, Sam. The whole cabin blew up and burned to the ground!"

He looked at her clothes again. "But you're okay, right?"

"Yeah. They rigged my place too, so I didn't even try to get inside. I didn't know where else to go. I came to Miami and thought maybe I'd get lucky and find you all here."

"Well, here we are," Fiona smiled as she and Michael approached the table. When she caught sight of her clothes, Fiona's smile faded. "What happened, Patsy?"

Patsy told them everything she could, starting with her conversation with Benny at the store. "I didn't see who did it. When I came to, the cabin was totally involved, and I was the only one around."

"I guess it's not over after all," Michael said, his face stony, and an undertone of anger in his voice. "I'll call Paxson and let her know. Sam, do you think Elsa would mind putting up Patsy at the hotel?"

Fiona stared at him. "Isn't that a little dangerous, Michael, considering how the killers already tried to take out Sam there?"

"But since we came back from Virgil's, nobody's tried anything," Sam said. "It'll be fine. And maybe we can use the hotel to our advantage to trap whoever is doing this."

"What do you have in mind," Michael asked, his attention completely on Sam.

"How about we put on a little party, a fund raiser for, oh, I don't know..." He snapped his fingers and grinned. "How's this for some irony? We do a fund raiser for Tyler's medical bills. People will flock to it, including our killers. They'll be so incensed that we'd dare to put on something like that, you know they wouldn't miss it."

"That's crazy!" Patsy stared at Sam as if he'd lost it.

"It's perfect. Good idea, Sam."

"We could make it a pool party," Fiona said. "It would be harder for someone to smuggle in a weapon."

"They'd be forced to either set up something ahead of time, or use their bare hands." Michael nodded, a slow smile crossing his face. "It's perfect."

Patsy shook her head. "I really think you guys have lost it."

"You don't have to be there, Patsy. They don't want you," Sam said.

"I'll be there. You're my friends, and I want to help." She looked at each one of them. "Tell me what I can do."

"First of all, we need to take you shopping to get you some other clothes and a swimsuit," Fiona said. "The whole torn clothes thing went out years ago!"

"Well, you know this wasn't intentional." Patsy laughed.

"You and I know that, but... Come on, let's go!" The ladies stood and Fiona said, "You boys keep out of trouble!"

"We'll start planning this shindig and go over to the hotel to get Elsa's cooperation." Michael replied as he put on his sunglasses. "We'll see you for dinner here at six?"

"We'll be here." Fiona gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and they were gone.

Sam let out a heavy sigh.

"Having second thoughts?"

"No, I just hope this works, because I'm really tired of wondering if I should be watching over my shoulder everywhere I go." He got out of his seat and put on his sunglasses, then picked up the folder. "Guess this case will have to wait a little while."

"It's not urgent."

"Good, because the sooner we wrap up this whole accident thing, the better."

Michael threw a few bills on the table and they walked toward the Charger.

"You know, Mike, whatever we collect, I really do wanna give it to that kid. It's not like a guilt offering or anything. I just feel like we should do something."

"I know what you mean. I just hope the parents don't see it as an admission of guilt."

Sam shrugged. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

When Michael and Sam proposed the idea to Elsa, she just stared at them until they finished talking. Then her gaze shifted from Michael to Sam. "Have you completely lost your mind? You want to entice the killers to come here?"

"Well, as far as we know, they haven't killed anybody yet." Sam clarified.

"I don't care! They're after you, and that's something I do care about." She turned her eyes to Michael. "You really think this is a brilliant idea?"

"Yes, I do. I know it sounds risky, but we've had worse situations." Michael answered with a cool smile and sat with his legs crossed, creating a casual air. "We can get cooperation from the police, so it's not like we're on our own here."

"I don't like it."

Michael shrugged. "Well, we'll just have to find a different venue then, Sam." He and Sam stood.

"Wait! Where will you do this?" She stood and met their eyes with her own full of fear for them.

"Don't worry, we'll work it out, baby. Mike?" Sam turned to leave.

"Thanks for your time, Elsa," Michael said as he moved to follow Sam.

"Sam! No!" She took two long strides, grabbed his arm, and stopped him from leaving her office. He turned toward her with a questioning expression. "Okay, if you can show me that this isn't going to cause catastrophic damage to my hotel or yourselves, you can use the pool. Just let me know when you want to do this, so I can be sure there aren't any conflicts."

"Interesting, how she put the hotel over us," Michael muttered with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ohhh, you know what I meant!"

Sam's smile widened. "He's just teasing you, Elsa." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. We'll let you know once we talk to Pearce and Paxson, get the law enforcement cooperation set up. Then we'll start planning the event."

Elsa returned his wide smile with one of her own. "Don't worry about the event, honey. I'll plan that for you. By the time I'm done, it'll be a night to remember."

Sam turned serious eyes on her. "For us or the criminals?"

"For everyone, although for some, a much better memory." She squeezed his hand. "Now, go on! I have an event to plan!"

Elsa still thought the idea of trapping the people who wanted to kill Sam and Michael was dangerous and crazy. But her love for Sam and the desire to end this once and for all led her to agree to host the event. When he gave her the date, she looked at the calendar with squinted eyes, a small part of her hoping that the day was booked. A foundry equipment convention was in town around that date, and all the attendees were staying in her hotel. They always liked to dominate the pool when they weren't at the convention. The week popped up on her screen and she found it empty. She exhaled softly, partly out of relief, and partly out of dread. Now she would have to do her part.

She met them at Carlito's for lunch. Michael and Fiona sat at a round table with Sam, and when he saw her he stood, smiling, and kissed her with a tenderness that always sent her heart fluttering just before he held out the chair for her.

"Thank you," she said as she settled in. Seconds later, a server brought her a drink. He knew exactly what she wanted. That was one of the many things she loved about Sam. After taking a sip, she asked, "Did you all order yet?"

"No, we were waiting for you," Fiona replied.

"Sorry I was held up at the hotel. Management issues with a rowdy patron." She shook her head.

"I hope it wasn't anything too serious," Michael said.

"No. Just wait, in a couple of weeks the foundry guys come to town!" She shook her head. "Anyway, enough of my problems." She pulled a file folder from her briefcase and handed it to Michael. "These are the plans for the event. We'll have a seafood buffet set up to the side, a cash bar, and a live calypso band. Naturally, we'll have a Caribbean flavor to the whole thing. I've included copies of the flyers and advertisements that are going in this week's papers. I have a friend who does radio spots, and he's produced a really nice one. I e-mailed you a file of it. Just about every station in town will air it, get this, for free."

"Free?"

"Oh yeah. Just wait, Michael. The publicity for this will be unbelievable." She sat back in her chair and her hands moved, animating her words as she looked at Michael and Sam. "The Herald has already gotten wind of it, so you two get ready to field some questions. And possibly some flak. No one will believe that the two guys who've been virtually strung up by the media are now putting on a charity event for the kid. We put the right spin on this and you guys'll look like heroes."

"Wow, you've really got this covered," Sam said, impressed by her work. He took her hand and squeezed it. "We should have had you handling our PR from the beginning of all this."

"What can I say, I'm multi-talented?" Elsa smiled. "Hey, I haven't seen Patsy today. Do you know where she is?"

"She's working as kind of a liaison between Paxson and Pearce," Fiona answered. "We're trying to avoid any agency feeling like their toes are getting stepped on."

"Speaking of Patsy," Sam said as his eyes locked on a figure walking down the street. "Here she is!"

Fiona was the only one at the table who wasn't surprised by Patsy's appearance. After their shopping trip and a salon session the day she arrived, Patsy looked stunning. Today, she wore a red halter top sundress covered with tiny white polka dots. Her hair was up, bound by a matching band of fabric, the length flowing free in soft spiral curls. She looked taller, thanks to some wedge sandals. Her face glowed with the help of very little makeup, and it had more to do with the smile on her face. Strangers stopped to turn and look at her.

"Hey, guys. I knew I'd find y'all here."

"Let's pull up a chair." Michael retrieved a seat from an empty table and placed it between him and Sam.

"Thanks. Is Jesse around?" She sat and rested her arms on the sides, completely relaxed around her friends.

"He's got a new gig." Michael replied with a hint of jealousy. "He won't be able to help us with the planning, but he'll probably be there to execute it."

"Oh, good. So, what have we got?"

Michael filled her in on everything Elsa brought. Patsy looked over the material and nodded, then handed the folder to Sam, who gave it back to Elsa. "Looks like it's going to be quite the shindig. I talked to Michelle and Dani this morning, and we think we've got all the entrances and exits covered, and there will be agents and officers mingling with the crowd. We have a meeting with everybody the night before so they all get familiar and we avoid any friendly fire situations." She turned to Michael. "We just need to know how you intend to handle your end."

"We don't know who we're looking for, so Sam and I will have to mingle but be within eyesight of the security detail. We'll make ourselves very visible, sort of easy pickings. When the would-be killers make their move, security will move in and take him, her, or them down before either of us gets killed."

"It's a fine line, isn't it. One of you might get hurt."

"It's a risk we have to take," Sam told her. "We can't go half measure on this, or we've got no reason to detain them."

Patsy's mouth worked like she wanted to say something, but she was saved from scrutiny by the server's arrival. She took everyone's order and someone changed the subject. As they ate and chatted, she looked around the table at the people who had become her friends in such a short time. She contemplated what she'd gotten herself involved with, that it was dangerous, and that someone could get hurt or die. She hadn't been close to a situation like this in some time. As a matter of fact, by cloistering herself in the Everglades, she effectively cut herself off from anything that would be considered sticking out her neck. Patsy thought she was happy that way. No chance of getting hurt or hurting anyone. But as they planned for this sting operation, her blood started pumping again and reminded her of why she joined the police force. Was it enough to encourage her to return to Miami and rejoin? She wasn't sure. She felt that her decision hinged upon what happened in the coming days.

"Patsy, did you ever find out if your place was really rigged to blow," Fiona asked.

Leave it to Fiona to bring up things that went boom! Patsy replied, "Yes, it was. Michelle had a sheriff's deputy go out to check on it, and then a bomb squad rushed down there from Miami. It's been dismantled, so when I get home my house will be clear. Although, you can bet I'll still check it before entering, just to be sure."

"So you're going back then, after this is all over?" Fiona looked up from her salad.

Patsy was touched by the look in her eyes. "It's still up in the air. If nothing else, it'll be the place I can go to get away from it all."

"Maybe you can get Jesse to go along. He works too hard," Sam said with a chuckle and took a sip of his mojito.

"You just won't quit, trying to set me up." Patsy slugged him in the arm, just enough to be playful, yet release a little of the sense of self-consciousness over his suggestion. Jesse was a nice guy. She really liked him. But he seemed to be focused on everything but her, so she got the message. He just wasn't into her, but that was okay. There were plenty of other men in Miami. Maybe one of them would be the last factor that tipped her over to staying.

After lunch they split up. Sam and Elsa went to the hotel to meet with Pearce and Paxson, working on where to station security. Michael and Fiona left to prepare for the media blitz that was sure to come. Patsy had nothing to do, so she decided to meander over to the hotel and check out the site for herself. With her unfamiliarity of the property, other than the room she stayed in and the route to get to it, she thought that she might see things through different eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Elsa had suggested that Sam go on television to defend himself following the accident, but he vetoed the idea. Now, he had a different reason to go on air. She stood with him in the green room. He fussed when she put on his makeup for him and fixed the flyaways in his hair. She played with a couple of curls at the back.

"I wish I had a scissors right now," she said.

"Will you stop, Elsa? Please!" Sam swiped at her hand that played with the hairs.

"If you didn't sweat, these locks wouldn't curl so much."

"I wouldn't sweat so much if you didn't make me nervous." He swiped at a bead of perspiration that ran down his temple.

"Sam! Now I have to fix that!" She picked up a foam sponge and dabbed at the spot he smeared.

"Why does it have to be so thick?"

"These studio lights will wash you out. I know, I've done this before."

"Really? When?" He looked down at her playing with his collar, securing and undoing the top button, calculating which way it lay better. She kept it buttoned, smoothed his suit, and looked up at him.

"A few years back I worked on a charity auction. I was in front of the camera a lot, so I had to get made up. It's not so bad. Just try to stay calm."

"I don't care about the cameras. I'm worried about getting barbecued by this host!"

"I could always go on with you for moral support if nothing else." She smiled at him.

"No, thanks. I'll be fine." He took a deep breath and looked at himself in the bank of mirrors stretching across one wall.

"You look great, sweetheart. I'd say knock 'em dead, but..." She trailed off.

He chuckled and pulled her to his side. He kissed her lips and said, "Thanks. I needed that."

"Mr. Axe? After this commercial break, you're on." A woman with a wireless headset plastered to one side of her face came into the room and announced.

"Great. Thanks."

Elsa took a few moments to rearrange his collar and lapels again, even though they were fine. Sam laughed and stilled her hands.

"Jeez, I think you're more nervous than I am."

Concern filled her eyes. "I have reason to be. I'm worried about you."

"Just take it one step at a time. If you focus on the big picture right now, it'll drive you crazy." He kissed her forehead, turned out of her grip, and followed the woman to the set.

"Good morning, in case you've just tuned in, I'm Stephanie Kline, and you're watching A.M. Miami. With us this morning is Mr. Sam Axe. If you'll recall, a few weeks ago he and his partner were involved in a shootout with some drug cartel members and little Tyler Stanfield was nearly fatally shot. Thank you for coming to our studio today, Mr. Axe."

"Thanks for having me, Ms. Kline."

"Before we get into the meat of why you're here, I'd like to ask you about the shooting." She shifted the papers on her knee and continued. "Mr. Axe, can you tell us why you were there? You're not in law enforcement. You used to be in the Navy, and I understand that you were a SEAL."

"Yes, I was."

"So, as a former SEAL, what was your assessment of the situation?"

Sam hesitated long enough to cross his legs and sit back as if her probing questions didn't matter. "I'm sorry, I didn't come on your program to talk about what happened. For various reasons, I can't discuss it." He put on a disarming smile. "Besides, isn't it time to stop pointing fingers and focus on putting lives back together? That's why I'm here."

She leaned forward and asked, "Why can't you talk about it?"

"Some of it is classified, and the rest has been talked about in depth many times before. My friend and I were raked over the coals often enough. It's time to get off that and move on."

"The Stanfields will never be able to move on. With the memories of what happened, the cost of the bills and the therapy their son needs..."

"And that's why I'm here, to raise awareness for this fund raising event, Tyler's Time Pool Party."

"Aren't you concerned that some in the community might think you're either trying to assuage your guilty conscience, or even bribe or buy your way out of a civil lawsuit with this gesture?"

Sam leaned forward in his seat and his eyes bored into hers. "A child got hurt, and believe it or not, everyone on our team was deeply affected by that. It's not a ploy, or whatever you want to call it. We're serious about this." He leaned back again and turned his attention to the camera with the light on. "We looked at what Tyler is going through and the staggering costs, and we're excited about the chance to make something good come out of this whole thing."

Stephanie pursed her lips and glanced down at her papers. "What can people expect at this event?"

Sam launched into a detailed description, leaving behind the negative questions she'd thrown at him and making it look like they were just a couple of good guys who stumbled into a bad situation that was beyond their control. Their mission was to right a wrong. It was true enough.

Stephanie's smile was forced. "I just have one more question. Where is your 'associate' this morning? Mr..."

"Other than the fact that he's probably still sleeping after a late night stakeout, he needs to maintain his anonymity. It's like those guys in the DEA or the Narcotics Division. If people know who they are, they lose their effectiveness in their job."

"Then I guess people will have to attend Tyler's Time to get a gander at our mystery man, is that it?"

Sam tilted his head and smiled. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll never hear it from me if he's there."

"I suppose you're quite good at secrecy, aren't you, Mr. Axe?"

"When I was a SEAL, it was all about secrecy, Ms. Kline, and a lot of what I do nowadays also requires confidentiality."

"I see. I have time for one more question." She looked Sam in the eye and asked, "What did this tragedy do to your procedures? Have you changed the way you pursue suspects?"

"Well, so far we haven't had to chase any, at least not here in the city. But if we do, we'll most definitely take even more into consideration, like the surrounding environment. If it's too hot, then we have to decide what's more dangerous: taking a shot or letting them go to try to get them another day."

"So there's still a potential of this happening again."

Sam shook his head slowly as he replied, "I really don't want to speculate on that."

"Oh please, Mr. Axe, you can't be that cavalier about it. Peoples' lives are at stake!"

In the shadows, the director waved his arms, trying to get her to shut down the interview.

"You make it seem as if this is an every day occurrence, but it's not. I think we have more to worry about from the criminals who think it's okay to go out and terrorize people. Don't you?"

The red light on the camera went out without Stephanie having the chance to sign off. Her eyes burned into Sam's as if she wanted to strike him down right there. "Nobody ever gets the last word on my show but me." She shot out of her chair and stalked away.

"Wow, I feel special." He grinned and stood. He was on his way to the green room when a voice stopped him.

"Sir, I need to get the mic from you."

"Oh yeah." As he removed his suit jacket to get access to the microphone and transmitter pack, someone grabbed him roughly from behind. He turned to see who it was and a fist came up and pounded into his face. The pain caused pinpricks of light to dance before his eyes, but he recovered enough to go on the defensive.

Sam was grateful he put on a silk shirt that morning. It allowed him to slip out of the grip of the person who held onto him, and out of the sleeves of his suit jacket. He whirled on his heel and confronted his attackers. The one with the fist also held a gun.

"Sam! What's going on?"

He heard Elsa's voice. He called out to her. "No, El..."

The gun went off, and he heard something fall. He didn't have to look to know it was Elsa. Sam thrust out his arm and caught in the throat the man who tried to grab him, sending him to the floor, choking. Sam reached out with his other hand and clamped onto the gunman's wrist. He smashed the gun hand against a corner a couple of times to dislodge it, and then he gave him a powerful left hook that laid him out on the floor. Sam didn't waste time checking to see if he was breathing. He had more pressing concerns.

"Sam, she's been hit."

He entered the dim hall between the sound stage and the green room, and he was surprised to see Elsa kneeling beside a figure lying on the floor.

"Elsa, I thought you were shot!" He got down on one knee to check on the woman who earlier had escorted him to the sound stage. He let out a breath. "She's dead."

"Oh no!" Elsa put a hand up to her mouth.

"Honey, I want you to leave. Now." Sam urged her to her feet. "Go on, get out of here and call the police."

"Come with me!"

"No! Don't worry about me, just go!" He pushed her toward the exit. "Do it!"

Elsa took one last look at him before doing as he ordered. Sunlight blinded him for a moment as the door opened and let in the daylight. Then it closed, and the last thing he felt was something hard as it hit him over the head, and his body crumpled to the sound stage floor.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Sam's head pounded with every pulse beat. He tried to raise it, but it hurt too much. As he came to consciousness, he listened to the activity around him. It was far too quiet. Am I still in the studio? Where's Elsa? Did she get away?

"Mr. Axe, you need to wake up now."

He kept his head bowed as he assessed his position. He was sitting in a wooden straight back chair, his hands tied to the back and his ankles secured to two of the legs with duct tape. He was gagged. Oh great, I hate being kidnapped. At least there's no head bag, he noted as he cracked his eyes open a sliver.

"I think he's coming to."

"Get up there to the control room. Now!"

Sam heard feet running away. A sweaty palm slapped the side of his face and brought his head up, and his neck cracked. His eyes opened completely and he stared at his assailant. It was a woman.

"Who are you," he tried to speak, but the gag prevented any intelligible words from coming out of his mouth.

"It's not your time to talk yet, Mr. Axe. Right now, you just sit there looking pretty for the cameras and shut up." She got out of his face, straightened, and turned away. She paced the sound stage in front of the couch. Stephanie Kline and the two anchors sat on the couch, eyes wide with fear. She stopped in front of them. "You know what? I don't need any of you. You're all fired. Get out, now." She leveled the gun at them and they jumped up and ran. Only their hands were bound, so they were able to escape. She turned and shot at the floor to make them move faster. She laughed.

Sam stared at her, unable to believe what he was seeing. In the shadows beyond the studio lights three cameras pointed at him, but they were unmanned. None of the usual crew lurked in the blackness. In the control room only one person sat at the board and another stood behind him in a menacing stance with an automatic weapon. He tried to twist his head to loosen the gag, but it didn't work.

"No, no, you can't take that off unless I want it off, and I'm not quite ready for that yet."

Who is this woman? Why is she doing this? He wished he could ask.

She moved to stand behind him and turned her attention to the cameras while the smooth metal of the gun barrel slid across his shoulder and stopped at his neck. It pressed into his flesh. Instead of panicking, he relaxed and kept his breathing even. His eyes moved around to assess the studio. He and this stranger were the only ones in the immediate area. He heard pounding on the metal door in the hall leading to the green room and muffled voices behind it. A cell phone rang, and Sam realized it was in his pocket.

O crap, I bet it's Mike, too! Great timing, Mikey! Too bad I can't answer it.

"Oh, somebody's phone is ringing." She sucked in a breath as if in surprise. "How about that, it's yours! Let's see who it is, shall we?" She kept the gun indenting his neck as she snaked her free hand into his pocket, found the phone, and brought it out. She purred into his ear. "Hmmm, how was that for you? I sure enjoyed it." The phone stopped ringing. "Must have gone to voice mail." She hit a few buttons and announced, "It was your friend, Michael..."

Before she could finish the name, Sam tilted the chair enough to get one leg up and brought it down on her foot.

"Aaaaahw!" The woman cried out and dropped her weapon and the phone, her only desire to get the chair leg off her instep.

She pushed Sam with enough strength and rage to send him teetering. With his hands tied he couldn't break his fall, and he landed face first. He was able to twist enough so the side impacted with the floor. It didn't knock him out, but he was disoriented for a few moments.

While the drama played out on the sound stage, the station broadcast it all over Miami. People watched, unable to tear their eyes away, as the strange woman attacked the man who was helpless to defend himself. Maddie watched in horror. She hadn't spoken to Michael since they declared a truce, but she picked up her phone. When he answered, she said with an emotionally charged voice, "Michael, you have to help Sam."

"I was just trying to get a hold of him, Ma, but he's not picking up."

"That's because there's some woman on the TV, she's holding him hostage, and she's beating the crap out of him!"

"Where! Where is this happening?"

"On channel six."

Michael knew which studio that was. "Okay, Ma. We'll take care of this. Just turn it off. Don't watch."

"I can't help it. I'm scared for him!"

"The police are probably taking care of it, but we'll go check it out. I'll call you later, Ma."

"Michael, what's wrong," Fiona asked from her position sprawled on the other side of the bed as she ate from a carton of yogurt.

"Sam is being held hostage at the studio where he had the interview this morning. We're going to check it out."

Dozens of people surrounded the studio behind police tape, and police and SWAT team members were everywhere when Michael and Fiona arrived. A man with a bullhorn paced near a panel truck and spoke on the phone. Michael zeroed in on him.

"I'm sorry, Sir. You can't walk through here. Get back behind the line."

"That's my friend being held hostage in there!"

"Westen!"

He heard his name and turned to see Paxson coming toward him. Her smile was grim as she grabbed his arm and addressed the officer. "It's okay, they're with me. Michael, Fiona, come this way." She led them to the panel truck and waited for the man to get off the phone.

"Miss Stanfield, I understand what you're trying to do, but this isn't the way to go about it. Miss Stanfield... Miss Stanfield!" He hung up the phone. "Somebody get me a TV over here! I wanna see what's going on now."

"Captain Reyes, this is Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne. They're... friends... of Sam's."

Reyes turned to acknowledge them, and he recognized Michael. "Oh yeah, you're the other guy she wants."

"Who, the crazy lady in the studio," Fiona asked.

"Yeah. But you can be sure I'm not letting you go in there, Mr. Westen."

"You are if it gets Sam free."

"Don't worry, we're working on that."

They all turned to the flat screen that someone hooked up to a cable and a portable electrical source. The channel, and all the others in the city that tapped into the feed, showed Sam upright and conscious again with a large bruise spreading on the right side of his face. Alyssa Stanfield limped around behind and to his left side, holding the gun in one hand, aiming at him now and then in a failed attempt to instill fear. He only glared at her in response.

"That was really stupid what you did. As stupid as firing on those men in front of my nephew's house!" She winced at the pain in her foot and turned away for a moment.

Sam had enough freedom of movement that he could bring up his shoulder and catch the gag with his collar. He pulled it down and worked it until it fell away from his mouth. "Is that what this is about? By abusing me on TV, in front of the entire city, you think this will make up for an accident?"

She turned her eyes full of anger on him. "How'd you get that off?" She reached for the gag to put it back, but Sam leaned away.

"Wait. I know who you are. Your Alyssa. Tyler's aunt. I know you're angry, but think about it. Is this really the way to go about getting what you want? What do you want, anyway?"

"The city won't do it, so I have to make you pay for what you did!"

"I took two slugs in the vest, two slugs that might have hit your nephew or one of his friends. Look, I know that doesn't justify the fact that we were there, but because of circumstances, we were. It could have gone a lot worse."

"Nothing you say can ever make up for it. Nothing!" She yelled in his face.

"I know that. All we can ever say is that we're sorry. Nothing will change. We all learned a lesson that day, and hopefully we all came out smarter as a result." He paused. "I don't know what we can do to make it better for you, to give you a satisfying conclusion to this mess."

"I just want the revenge that my family deserves!"

No matter how agitated she became, Sam kept his voice even and calm. "And what does that entail?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I know one thing. If the police don't bring your friend in here in five minutes, you're dead." She aimed the gun at his chest and put pressure on the trigger. He closed his eyes for a moment, but she wouldn't shoot him. Not yet. She wanted him and Michael together so she could execute them on live TV. It would be the ultimate in revenge.

"Have you given any thought about this beyond killing us? I mean, what do you think this will do to your family? What about Tyler? What about you? You kill us, and your life is over." Sam turned to face the three cameras. "Tyler, if you're watching this right now, would you do something for your Aunt Alyssa? Call her on her cell phone. She needs to know how you feel about this, buddy."

"Stop it!" She slapped Sam across the face to shut him up.

Outside, Michael winced. "How long are you going to just sit here and do nothing?" He wasn't used to standing by, unable to help. He could try, but it would only create more problems and put the focus on him versus where it should be: getting Sam out of there.

"We've got SWAT in place and they're prepping for a solution. We just want to make sure your friend doesn't get shot in the process."

"I understand that, but the way she sounds, she'll probably fly off the handle and shoot him before they get in." Michael's feet would not stand still while he looked around and glanced at the television, the horrified crowd, and the police.

"Just be patient, Westen," Paxson said. "They'll get Sam out."

Fiona was about to say something when their attention was drawn to the screen. Alyssa's phone rang and she answered it.

"Hello? Tyler, baby, how are you... no, no I can't do that, don't you see... this man has to pay for what he did to you... it doesn't matter that he didn't shoot you, baby. It was his fault... no, no I can't do that."

"What is Sam doing," Fiona muttered as they watched him onscreen. The camera zoomed in on Sam's face. His head was down, eyes closed, as if he'd lost consciousness again. But his body moved, jiggling nervously. "Sam never gets like that under pressure. He must have really hit his head."

The camera angle changed to his right side, showing the viewing public what the woman had done to his face. Gasps peppered throughout the crowd. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and focused on the camera. He blinked as Alyssa continued on a rambling one-sided conversation with her nephew on the line.

"She has completely gone off the edge," Fiona declared.

Reyes added, "Which makes getting your friend out of there even more delicate."

"Fi, he's sending us a message. He and Alyssa are the only ones in the studio, two in the control room, one a hostage. He's working on the bindings on his ankles."

"You got that how," Reyes asked.

"He's blinking Morse code," Michael replied with a smile. "We've done this sort of thing before." He glanced at Fiona who smiled at the memory of how she used the same method to communicate with Michael when she was held hostage. "Now, if only we could get a message to him."

"Remember that operation in Dublin," Fiona asked Michael.

"We had a lot of operations in Dublin."

"The one where the bombers were holed up in an old bomb shelter, and we cut the power. We had operatives with night vision goggles to burst in and take them."

"I take it your SWAT guys have night vision."

"Oh yes."

"Good. I suggest setting them up for a break in. As soon as the lights go out, they storm her and get the gun away before she can shoot Sam. Except we'll have to wait until he can get mobile."

"And how are you going to let him know the plan?"

"I'll go in."

"What? Michael, you can't!"

"I'll keep myself masked and go in as a sympathizer, pretend I'm part of the crew who stayed when everyone else evacuated." He grasped Fiona's arms as he looked into her eyes. "You know this is about the only way."

"No, I can't allow this," Reyes declared.

"I agree." Paxson stared at him. "I thought you were crazy before, Westen, but this proves it."

"We can call Sam's phone and talk to him, maybe." Fiona formulated a plan aloud. "Ask her if she'll let Sam talk to a friend... Elsa... Find Elsa, and we'll put her on to talk to Sam, then when he gets the phone, switch to Michael. Yes! Can we do that?"

"Find this Elsa woman," Reyes ordered Paxson.

"I know just where she is. I'll be right back."

Paxson soon returned with Elsa, and she dialed Sam's number. On the television, it rang. Alyssa picked it up.

"Who is it?"

"M-my name is Elsa. Please, please let me talk to Sam!"

Alyssa thought for a few moments, then put the phone up to Sam's face. "It's your girlfriend."

"Elsa?"

Alyssa snatched it away and hit a button. "There, now we can all hear your tender lovey dovey good byes."

"Elsa, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Michael says, remember the Dublin story, the one with the lights and fury."

Hiding a smile, Sam said, "I remember, baby. Tell Mikey that we're all good here in about a quarter."

"I will. I love you, Sammy."

"Love you, Elsa."

"Are we still on... on for this party? Tyler's party?"

"It all depends on Alyssa." He looked up at her. "You kill me now, and it's all over. The party will be canceled and your nephew won't receive the benefit of the funds we intended to raise."

"That was all a game, and you know it! You had no intention of giving him anything!"

Sam kept a conversation going with her just long enough to work through the bindings at his ankles. It was duct tape, but not very good duct tape. He'd put enough stress on it to make it tear.

"Okay, enough of this!" Alyssa closed the connection. "Oh, that was Emmy worthy. Too bad you won't be around for the nomination... Sammy. I'm tired of this. It's time for retribution to begin."

"What are you planning to do? You're going to take me down without my friend? I would think you'd get so much more satisfaction out of doing us both at the same time." He turned back toward the cameras and blinked to Michael that he was ready. "Okay, fine, let's just get this over with. I'm tired of waiting for you to get up the nerve to shoot me, so you might as well just do it now. Let all those people watching see it. Come on, easy peasy! One... two... three!"

The lights went out at that moment. Alyssa fired her weapon where she last saw Sam. He cried out, and his body fell to the floor. Shouts came from every direction from the SWAT team members who stormed the studio. With the night vision goggles, they easily found Alyssa, and disarmed and cuffed her. She screamed and fought them, but there were too many.

The lights came up as they led her outside to a waiting police car. Michael and Fiona pushed through the police line and entered the studio through one of the broken doors. "Sam! Sam, are you okay?" Michael glanced up for a moment, not expecting to see the lights on the cameras still glowed red. He and Fiona ran to the center of the stage where their friend lay on the floor. His body was partially twisted away from the chair, but his hands were still connected to it.

Sam groaned and breathed out as he tried to get more comfortable. He saw a foot and leg appear before him, and he looked up. "Hey, Mikey. It's about time you rescued me!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Elsa ran a hand over the shoulder of Sam's suit, being careful with his shoulder blade. The bullet just grazed it, but it still hurt him. She closed her eyes and remembered that day. It was the most horrifying thing she'd ever experienced. For Sam, it was just another day at the office, so to speak.

"Sammy, I really think you need to think about, um, retiring from working with Michael. This is hazardous to your health!"

"Oh, I just got banged around a little. It's usually not like this." He pulled on the lapels of his suit jacket. "Trust me, usually the bad guys get it a lot worse than we do!"

"Maybe we should get away for awhile. Give you a chance to relax." She turned him to face her and laid her hands at his collar. "How about a cruise? Alaska is beautiful this time of year."

"Alaska, huh?"

"It's the farthest place I could think of short of going to some foreign country where you could possibly find some intrigue that would just get you into more trouble."

Sam laughed and wrapped his arms around her. "I'd love to go to Alaska." He kissed her. "Maybe we could try to melt a polar ice cap." He kissed her again with more heat.

"I love a good challenge," she muttered and smiled against his lips. With one more press of her lips, she pulled away. "But we need to get this out of the way, first."

"That's right."

Sam drove the Cadillac to the loft and Michael and Fiona got into the back seat. After greetings all around, the four remained silent as they rode to their destination. Neither Sam nor Michael had been down the street since that fateful day, but Sam remembered the house. He parked in front and they got out, and none of them could avoid looking across the boulevard at the place where this all began. A car pulled up behind them, and Jesse and Patsy got out. As a team they put this together, and as a team they would finish it.

Michael took the initiative and rang the bell. The others stood straight, with hands clasped, waiting.

"Yes." Mrs. Stanfield spoke as she opened the door. She remembered the two men, but the others she didn't know. "What is this?"

"Mrs. Stanfield, I'm Michael Westen. My friend Sam Axe and I were the ones involved in the accident. These are friends of ours." He introduced them all.

"What do you want?"

"I'm sure you were aware of the pool party held in Tyler's honor."

"Yes. And we chose not to attend." Her voice grew cold. "We didn't want Tyler to be used or taken advantage of."

Sam kept his thoughts to himself and announced, "Ma'am, we raised nearly twenty thousand dollars that night, with the admission to the party, the cash bar, and a silent auction."

"And the hotel made a matching contribution," Elsa added proudly and with a smile as she pulled out an envelope. "This is for Tyler. We didn't make a dime off of this event for ourselves."

Mrs. Stanfield's mouth hung open as she took the envelope. "Why did you do this?"

"We just wanted to help," Michael answered.

The woman opened the envelope and pulled out the check for forty thousand dollars. She looked up at them, and it was hard for her to speak. Finally, she managed to say, "This will help a lot with the bills. It won't wipe them all away, but it will help a lot. Thank you."

"Is there anything left from what was raised on the web site," Michael asked.

Mrs. Stanfield replied, fighting tears. "Alyssa took almost everything to pay for those men who tried to kill you." She sniffled and added, "You know we decided to drop the lawsuit."

Sam nodded. "We heard."

"There was no point to it, when we learned how much the lawyers would get, if we were even awarded what we asked. To put our son through that, it would have been like reliving the accident all over again." Her voice broke. "And then, after what Alyssa did..."

"It's okay. That's all over now," Sam said.

"Now, maybe some day I'll be able to forgive you. But not today. I'm sorry."

"So are we, Mrs. Stanfield." Michael replied, and she retreated into the house without another word and closed the door on them.

Everyone stood for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Fiona spoke first. "Shall we leave now? We have plans."

"Plans for what," Jesse asked.

"We're going out of town for awhile," Fiona answered with a wide grin as she stepped off the property.

"Fi and I are renting a sailboat for a couple of weeks," Michael replied. "We need to get going to make our flight to Aruba."

"That's a nice getaway," Sam said as he opened the car for Elsa. "We're leaving tomorrow for a two week Alaskan cruise."

Patsy frowned. "Jesse, everybody's going to have fun but us."

"I'm sure we can figure something out," Jesse said with a smile. He waved to his friends, and said, "Bon voyage!" He opened the door and let Patsy get into his car, and he got into the driver's side. The cars pulled away from the curb and turned around at the break in the median. They drove past the patch of cement where the accident happened and kept going, on to new adventures.


End file.
